


Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fake Marriage, Family Secrets, First Kisses, First Meetings, Found Family, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Maria Stark Lives, Marriage Proposal, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Period Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Ronin Clint Barton, Running Away, Spy Natasha Romanov, Strangers to Friends, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, war typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 134,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. Hisheart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?





	1. Chapter 1

There were a thousand reasons to love a masquerade.

The playfulness that came with not knowing who was beneath which mask, whether the man in all black was actually the husband of the woman in red, or if the pair was well aware the flirtatious looks and sly touches were being shared with someone not their spouse.

There was a dignity that came with the ornate costumes, meaning that even the servants were treated with respect, men bowing over hands that had scrubbed their toilets the night before, women tittering over sculpted bodies that just that morning were grooming horses and mucking out stalls.

There was a layer of sexual tension in the air not usually present at high society gatherings, or at least not so  _obviously_ present and blatantly  _encouraged_. Dresses were cut to just this side of scandalous for the sake of costume. Shoulders were bared, legs wrapped in nothing but sheer stocking, bosoms lifted nigh to the heavens above corsets in colors that would have shocked in the daylight.

Pants were indecently tight, shirts unbuttoned far past acceptable, hands straying lower than necessary as couples circled the dance floor, more said with raised eyebrows and meaningful touches than with the murmur of conversation that ran in tandem with the flow of the orchestra.

 _Masquerades_.

Tony loved them for all these reasons and  _more_. He loved the music that never stopped playing, an easy rhythm the entire room swayed to. He loved the heady scent of flowers that came through open doors, and the balconies just outside that led to private gardens. He loved the masks everyone wore— some nothing more than an eyepiece, others dramatic pieces of art complete with headdresses that flowed down into the costumes.

He loved the pageantry and the mystery and the lightheartedness and tonight more than anything, Tony loved the  _anonymity_.

Usually one to stand out, to strive for the brightest and boldest costume, Tony was nearly invisible tonight, having traded his original costume for one that more matched his mood. Feathers in muted grays and browns ran the length of his cloak, swirling about his feet and mostly covering the black shirt and trousers he wore beneath. The mask was modified as to hide all but his lips, fingerless gloves served to cover the family crest inked onto his wrist. He kept to a spot at the columns that lined the outskirts of the room, seeing everyone and being seen by nearly none.

 _Invisible_.  

And that was exactly how he wanted it.

It had been an act of sheer defiance, coming to the ball tonight. Howard had ordered Tony to stay home and to  _please_ not embarrass them any more than he already had. Maria had asked him with tears in her eyes to not make things  _worse_ , that once enough time had passed for everyone to forget, maybe  _then_ he could go back to dancing at the masquerades and parties and no one would think anything of it.

But tonight, please for tonight, they had told him to stay home. To take his wounded heart and tattered feelings and the lies and hide them away  _please please please._

But Tony was tired of hiding and he was tired of  _lying_ and he was tired of being ashamed of the way he loved– of  _who_ he loved–so he had switched costumes and snuck away from the house and come anyway.

Tony loved masquerades for so many reasons, and tonight he hated it for all the same ones.

Alone at the outskirts, he couldn’t help but stare at the couples twirling about the dance floor, laughing and smiling. He couldn’t help but notice pairs sneaking away to the gardens for a less than respectable rendezvous in the shadows. Each smile was happier than the next, every gown more lovely and every suit more dashing and Tony–

—Tony hated them all with something deep and awful and broken that seemed to rise from the edges of his soul.

It wasn’t  _right_ they should all be so carefree when Tony thought he might never actually smile again. It wasn’t  _right_ for them to laugh and dance and tease and  _live_ when Tony felt as if he might shatter to pieces if too stiff a wind came along.

The champagne flute in Tony’s hand threatened to crack his fingers tightened around the delicate stem.

It wasn’t right that  _he_ was on there dance floor, the one that had ruined Tony’s life with nothing more than a few words and a dismissive gesture, had laughed when Tony had  _begged_ , and walked away without a backwards glance.

 _Ty_.

He was resplendent tonight in a suit of the palest blue and mask of purest white, a costume Tony had helped choose for him, the fit perfectly flattering from every angle. A man so close to a devil shouldn’t resemble an angel and yet he was  _beautiful_ as he danced with his wife, a petite brunette swathed in a purple dark enough to be as black as her heart.

She was giggling, head tipped back and pink lips parted in a laugh and Ty was laughing with her, hands that Tony knew  _intimately_ set possessively at her waist, holding carefully over the ruffles that hid a pregnancy she wasn’t ready to announce yet.

It’s said that there is a thin line between love and hate, nothing more than a breath between the moment a lover becomes an enemy, a nonchalantly twisted turn of phrase or too long a hesitation before a declaration of love, and what was once delicate and lovely suddenly becomes jagged and torn.

Tony saw that thin line looming before him as he tossed back the rest of his champagne and let the glass shatter on the stone floor. He charged right  _over_ the line as he started off across the ballroom, determined to grab Ty by the shoulder and to shake him. To demand in front of all who gathered at the masquerade that the silver tongued bastard tell the truth for  _once_ , just  _once_ in his miserable life.

It wasn’t  _right_ that Tony’s life as he knew it had come to a terrible sort of screeching halt, while Ty could still dance with his wife as if what had happened between them was nothing more than an inconvenience.

 _An inconvenience_. Tony quickened his step, clenching his fists in anger.  _You cannot throw me away as if I’m an inconvenience._

He had almost made it to the dance floor and was just a few steps away from causing the scene that Howard had been so worried about, when a hand landed on his arm and a vision in green and blue stepped into his path.

“ _Buonasera_.” came the lightly accented greeting, and Tony looked down in surprise. “You look like a man who needs a drink.”

It took Tony a few seconds to gather himself from the unexpected appearance of the beautiful woman at his side, but he managed a stiff, “I don’t need a drink. Thank you all the same.”

“Oh, but I do.” Full lips tipped into a smirk and the hand at Tony’s arm squeezed lightly. “So be the gentleman I know you are and accompany me to find a refreshment.”

“I don’t have time for you, Madame.” Tony didn’t bother keeping the bite from his tone. “Nor do I have an interest in whatever you are offering, so let me be.”

The woman laughed then, a husky sound that gave Tony shivers despite his determination to get away from her. “ _Signore_ , you are a man with murder in his eyes. Surely you have time for a drink before you slit someone’s throat, hm?”

Tony startled, narrowing his eyes and taking a closer look at the woman, at the eye catching colors of the peacock styled dress, the mask filled with feathers and glitter that covered most of her face. “And who are you exactly?”

“That is a conversation that will be had over a drink.” The peacock said firmly, adjusting the jeweled neckline of her dress. “Shall we?”

Tony’s jaw clenched but he nodded. “Perhaps  _one_ drink.”

Offering his arm was a gesture more of habit than politeness, and Tony walked the mysterious woman in silence to the refreshment table, waiting without speaking for two glass of champagne, and not bothering to hide his stare over the rim of the flute and wanting to smile despite himself when she returned his gaze without blinking.

“You do not belong here.” Tony said after several moments of open perusal. “You speak Italian but with a Russian accent, you came to the masquerade as a peacock which would have been very fashionable  _last_  season but is out of style for this one. Your mask covers far too much of your face to be teasing which means you are using it to hide, and—“ he raised his eyebrows pointedly. “I know everyone in this room whether they are in costume or not, and I do not know  _you_.”

Green eyes narrowed then sharpened, but Tony didn’t look away. “What’s your name?”

“I am not in the habit of giving my name to strange men.” Came the immediate answer. “And I’d wager that  _you_ don’t belong here either, not with the way you are skulking about the edges of the room like a dog kept away from the buffet table, pushed to the side so no one has to see you.”

“Pushed to the side.” Tony repeated, stung that the words were much closer to the truth than she knew, but forcing an edge into his tone to reply, “I’m surprised you noticed me at all, I was under the impression that peacocks were too vain to pay attention to anyone but themselves.”

“And yet we have a thousand eyes—“ she snapped open a fan of peacock feathers, the design bearing an unnerving similarity to a row of eyes staring at him. “— to see any and all things. Tell me, why are you dressed as an owl at a party full of birds of paradise?”

She motioned behind Tony to the myriad of couples dressed in bold colors, then to the hooked horns at the top of his mask. “ _I_ was under the impression that owls were omens of death. Or was I wrong and you  _weren’t_ on your way to rip someone apart when I stopped you.”

She smiled curiously when Tony muttered a curse. “ _Mm_. I thought so.”

“My intentions before this impromptu little meeting don’t matter.” Tony said bluntly. “Your name and your business with me, Madame, or I will take my leave of you.”

“My name and my business.” Another of those mysterious smiles accompanied by the offering of a slim hand. “ _Signore_ , my name is Lady Natalia Romanova and I am in dire need of a husband.”

“Lady Natalia—“ again, instinct and manners overcame his intentions and Tony kissed her hand before he fully realized what she’d said. “You are in need of a husband? You came to Italy from Russia to find a  _husband_?”

“Indeed.” The Lady Romanova took a sip of her champagne, her tone blasé but gaze impish as she continued, “I hear the Italians are  _fantastic_ lovers and I consider that a desirable quality in a man I’d take as my own. Do take off your mask please, I’d like to know if you are as comely as I first imagined.”

“You are wasting your time with me.” The muscle in Tony’s jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together, suddenly sure that this was some sort of trick orchestrated by Ty, perhaps even by his father as a not subtle encouragement to forget what had happened and move onto something more socially  _acceptable_. “I am not in the market for a wife.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you were.” Natalia conceded. “But you  _are_ looking for a way out of here, aren’t you? And a wife would certainly provide you with a plausible escape.”

“Why would you say I’m looking for a way out?” Tony was suddenly suspicious, taking a closer look at the woman who barely came to his shoulder. Natalia was disarmingly small and looked nearly breakable if not for the steel in the green eyes and the solid set to her shoulders. This was not a woman to be trifled with, yet she was meandering through a masquerade in look of a  _husband_?

 _No_. Tony decided. No there was quite a bit more to the Lady Natalia Romanova, quite a bit more indeed. “Tell me, Lady Romanova. What have you heard about me that makes you so sure a wife is a solution to my problems?”

“I’ve heard exactly nothing about you.” A bare shoulder dusted with blue glitter rose and fell in a careless shrug. “And if I had, I wouldn’t care to listen. But you are not the only one standing in the corners and watching the lovers tonight. I am watching too, and out of every man in this room you are the only one who would rather be anywhere but right here, yet you torture yourself by being  _exactly_ here. I wonder why that is.”

Tony stiffened beside her, stubbornly not meeting Natalia’s gaze. “And  _I_  wonder why a titled beauty is reduced to trolling masquerades and approaching random men with offers of marriage.”

“Tis not so much an offer as it is a proposition.” She countered with another shrug. “Tell me why you were so intent on murdering the man in the white mask.”  

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Tony closed his eyes and muttered an oath. “Why are you here  _propositioning_ for a husband?”

Natalia took a sip of champagne before answering, “My father left me many properties and business holdings, as well as quite a bit of money. However by virtue of my age and my gender–” Tony’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “– Don’t look so alarmed, I am of age. But in my country and because of the stipulations of my fathers will, I have to be older to take control of my own finances.”

She waited a beat and added, “Older or at least  _married_ , because despite my intelligence I am still a woman and most men I encounter think my worth begins somewhere around my thighs and ends just below my collarbone.”

“You need a husband to gain access to the money left to you.” Tony clarified. “Properties and that sort of thing.”

“Yes.”

“I’m supposed to believe this story?” He asked incredulously. “Supposed to go with you clear to Russia so you, a woman I have never met, can receive her inheritance? Even if I did believe you, what would be my benefit from this arrangement? How do I know you won’t just kill me after I sign the marriage certificate?”

“Don’t be so gloomy.” Natalia’s lips turned up into a playful smile. “I have no intention of doing away with you once I have what I need. I’m not a black widow, you know. Besides, there are stipulations for this sort of things, contracts that have to be fulfilled for marriages with in the nobility to be considered legal. As per my father’s will, to protect myself and the man I marry we have to be joined for three years before responsibility for the estates changes hands and before titles can be passed down to children.”

“Children.” Tony choked over the word. “You would want  _children_?”

“I would expect at least a perfunctory attempt at creating an heir.” Natalia tapped at her bottom lip in thought. “However, I don’t consider an heir necessary. If you are in agreement, we could do away with that part of the contract entirely.”

“I still don’t see what I would get from this.” Tony pointed out. “I would have to leave my entire life behind, move to a new country, learn a new language, call you my wife and take on all the responsibilities of a husband. Three years you would need from me, and yet I don’t see a benefit on my end.”

“I am giving you the chance to leave behind whatever it is here that you hate so much.” She said plainly. “Whomever it is, whatever situation. We could leave tonight, you and I. The rumors will say you fell hopelessly in love with a mysterious Russian noblewoman at the masquerade, one who ensnared you with her red hair and considerable—“

Natalia cleared her throat, drawing her fingers lightly across her decolletage. “—  _assets_ and we ran away into the night together. We would be the romantic scandal of the season.”

Tony was silent, and she prompted, “What do you have to lose?”

He thought for a long moment about what he  _did_ have to lose. Howard’s censure? Ty’s cruelty that he had pretended was  _love_ for so long? The gossip and speculative stares and whispers and questions that had already started? The anger that was  _acid_ in his stomach, crawling up his throat and burning behind his eyes?

He had nothing to lose.

Nothing he would miss anyway.

“This is absolutely absurdity.” He finally said. “Only a mad woman would suggest something so outrageous.”

“And only a mad man would consider it.” she returned. “And yet, here we are.”

Silence between them again, Tony’s mind racing as he considered everything the Lady Romanova had said–  _god was he actually considering this?_ – and Natalia watching him closely for several minutes.

“I have nothing to lose.” Tony muttered, pushing the mask into his hair and covering his mouth with his hand. “My entire life is here and yet–”

Unbidden, he sought out Ty on the dance floor again, watching the man move through the steps of the waltz as if he were floating, nothing but power and  _grace_ and a slow smile that still made Tony’s traitorous heart beat faster in his chest.

_Damn him._

Ty happened to glance up just then, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw Tony standing by the refreshment table, then narrowing in confusion when he saw Natalia there as well.

There was a flash of disapproval on the perfect features, a thinning of lips and clenching of his jaw and Tony felt that like a splash of cold water, jolting him from his thoughts.

This would be the last time Tiberius Stone would look at Tony as if he didn’t measure up.

“My name is Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark.” The words came a little stronger than Tony had intended, hardened by the anger brought back to the surface just by  _seeing_ Ty. “And yes, Lady Romanova. I’ll marry you.”

“Wonderful.” Natalia’s mask hid most of her expression, but her smile was extraordinarily pleased. “I have an officiant waiting for us in the city, we can be married tonight and leaving tomorrow morning if that is acceptable to you.”

Tony swallowed back the sensible part of himself, the part that told him to just go home and forget this nonsense, to listen to his mamma and let time heal his heart– he pushed that part away and nodded firmly. “Tomorrow morning is acceptable.”

“Excellent.” Natalia put her champagne down and stepped close enough that the brilliant colors of her skirt tangled around Tony’s legs, stark against the dark of his cape. “I think a kiss is in order to make things official, don’t you?”

“Why would I kiss you?” Tony didn’t mean to sound quite so surprised, or quite so harsh but he was more than a little taken aback by the suggestion. “What I mean to say is–”

“We’ve been standing here whispering for far too long to not be arranging illicit affairs.” She said simply. “Kiss me and we can leave and no one will think anything of it.”

Tony’s throat jerked as he swallowed nervously, and Natalia lowered her voice. “And also because the man in the white mask has been staring rather intently in our direction for some time now. I wouldn’t be so forward as to suggest that he was jealous–”

She arched a perfect eyebrow. “–but if I were a betting woman, I would think he was  _jealous_.”

There was no censure in Natalia’s eyes, no judgment or disgust, nothing to make Tony feel ashamed that she might have guessed where his desires lay and why he had been so intent on confronting Ty earlier, so Tony took a deep breath and nodded jerkily.

“You– you are correct.” He bit out and Natalia made a noise of agreement, placing a hand at his shoulder and standing on her toes to bring the other through his hair, murmuring, “Then a kiss is most necessary, wouldn’t you say? So we are all aware of exactly who stands where in this little dance of ours?”

Tony shifted his focus just over Natalia’s head and sure enough, Ty was still staring at them, face turning redder with every passing second, his wife forgotten at his side. Even at this distance his anger made Tony want to cringe, to blurt an apology, to beg for forgiveness and–

_No._

_No, those days were over._

“You’re right.” Tony decided abruptly. “A kiss is practically necessary at this point, isn’t it?”

Natalia laughed quietly and stood taller to bring their mouths together, sliding both arms around Tony’s shoulders to pull him down and nestling her curvy body against his frame.

It was entirely inappropriate to kiss so brazenly in public, of course. Even at a masquerade, kisses were shared in the shadows or along the walks of the garden and not under the lights in front of the refreshment table for all to see, but  _tonight_ Tony didn’t care.

Tonight, Tony fit both his hands around Natalia’s slender waist and then let them drop lower over her hips, bringing her deeper into his body. Once their lips met, Tony surprised himself with just how badly he needed the physical contact– even a kiss from a stranger, from a _woman_ , made him feel calmer than he had in weeks and he leaned into the embrace, sighing quietly when Natalia pressed closer to draw the moment out. .  

She was warm and soft, the light scent of her perfume filtering through the hurt and settling into his soul, soothing the edges of his heart ground so rough by his anger and when they finally parted, he gasped out something hoarse and  _needy_. It wasn’t lust and it wasn’t desire but it was something desperate and maybe a tiny bit relieved, and Tony pulled away, blinking back tears that pricked the edge of his vision.

“My god, our man in the white mask ruined you, didn’t he?” Natalia’s eyes were wide with  _realization_ and Tony flushed in embarrassment, dropping his hands from around her waist.

“No no.” she murmured, a flicker of sympathy across her expression. “Do not be embarrassed,  _dorogoi_. I won’t say anything again.”

Natalia stepped a little further away and raised her voice to something high and breathy, giggling and snapping open the fan again as if needing a moment to settle herself. “So very pleased to meet you,  _Signore_ Carbonell Stark!” She said loudly enough for any passersby to overhear, letting her Russian accent come through thick enough to be unmistakable. “I have half a mind to take you home with me! I do hope your wife isn’t here at the masquerade.”

“You’re very good at that.” Raw from their moment together, Tony retrieved his champagne with shaking hands. “At pretending.”

“You’re rather good at it too.” True to her word, Natalia didn’t bring up what had happened earlier, that brief moment where Tony had nearly crumpled in her arms. Instead she smoothed a few wrinkles from her dress as if fussing that the kiss had wrinkled it and commented, “You should smile though. Most men don’t look quite so upset after kissing a beautiful woman in a daring dress, especially if that woman is his fiancée.”

“Right.” Tony forced a wry smile to his face and raised his glass in a faux cheers. “To the future Lady Carbonell Stark.”

“To the future Lord Romanov.” Natalia corrected with a wink, and clinked her drink with his before finishing it in a single gulp. “Shall we away, then? The night is escaping us and we have much to do.”

Tony took one last look at the ballroom, at the dancers and the musicians, at Ty and his wife and the others and reached for Natalia’s hand. “Let’s go. I’m done here.”

**************

Tony only took two bags with him when he left, packing them hastily so he could be out of the Stark Manor and back to the carriage waiting at the end of the curved drive.

The carriage and his  _fiancee_ , that is.

Several of his favorite books and a few pieces of jewelry that were Carbonell family heirlooms as well as a Stark signet ring went into a small bag next to a picture of his mother and father, and one of just he and Maria. Tony’s warmest clothes and coat went into the larger bag, and he made room for a few of his nicer pieces as well, not knowing how long it would be until he could have more clothes made and not knowing what he would need when they very first arrived in Russia.

A cursory search through his desk, and Tony packed a few letters from his friend James who was off fighting the war, a set of wax and seal, paper and envelopes and various writing utensils.

And then he came across the stack of letters from Ty, correspondence between lovers that Tony had treasured as promises of a  _future_ , poetry and sketches of their life together, words that had once given him so much joy now nothing more than ink bleeding through thin paper and smudging with his tears onto his finger tips.

Every single letter was tossed into the fire, the satin strips melting away to nothing, the ink flaring briefly before dissolving into ash, and Tony dashed the tears from his face as he turned away, wishing whole heartedly that memories disappeared just as quickly.

The very last thing Tony did was to start a short note to his mamma so she wouldn’t worry about him, and he was midway through a lie about  _falling in love_  when Maria tapped at his door.

“Mama.” Tony startled when he saw her. “You’re home. I thought–” He gestured lamely. “I thought you and Papa had gone to Aunt Margaret’s for the night.”  

“And I thought you weren’t going to go to masquerade.” Maria said quietly. “But you did anyway, didn’t you? Why are you home so early, Antonio?”

“I felt as if I overstayed my welcome.” Tony tossed the half written note in the fire as well.  _No use leaving it now_. “Difficult to enjoy a party with all that’s been happening, you know.”

Maria’s dark eyes flitted over to the hastily packed bags and her expression crumpled, her voice catching as she asked, “Where are you going,  _mio figlio_? Surely you aren’t leaving me?”

“I’m going away for a while.” Tony didn’t want to lie to his mama, not to her face, so he tried to keep his answers as vague as possibly. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be sure to send a letter so you and Papa don’t worry.”

“Please stay.” Maria whispered, holding out her hand to her son. “Antonio, things  _will_ be better, you just need to give it time. Running away will not fix a broken heart, nor will it change the truth. Stay here at home and we will face this together.”

“Things will be  _better_?” Tony repeated, a sickening surge of anger tightening in his chest. “Things would be better if you and Papa had believed me, or if you had taken my side against Ty and that wasp he calls his wife. Things would be  _better_ if I could walk into a room without Papa turning his back! Things would be  _better_ if–”

He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, Mama. I’m leaving. I have a chance to escape and I’m taking it.”

“ _Antonio–_ ”

“I met a woman and I am marrying her.” Tony cut in, and Maria flinched away from the despair in his tone, the hopelessness and resignation that dragged the words. “She needs a husband and Papa thinks I need a wife and in a year or two, you might even have a grandchild to make you smile again. Everyone gets what they want.”

“Sweetheart, no matter the circumstances, neither your Papa nor I would never want you to be so unhappy.” Maria took a step closer. “Do not force yourself into whatever this lie is because you think you don’t have any other choice. Give it some time, Antonio. When the spring comes no one will even remember what happened and no one will–”

“I can’t stay here, Mama.” Tony’s voice cracked and tears came to Maria’s eyes. “I can’t stay here and feel Papa’s disappointment. I can’t watch  _you_ pretending like nothing happened and I can’t go through my days as if I’m whole when I’m barely holding on to my sanity. These last few weeks have been–” he shook his head. “I can’t even sleep, do you know?”

“I know.” Maria nodded. “I know you don’t, but–”

“I loved him.” Tony whispered, staring down at his feet so he wouldn’t have to see Maria’s reaction. “I loved him and he cast me aside like I was nothing and I can’t stay here. I can’t do this every day, my heart—”

Not trusting himself to make it through the sentence without breaking down, Tony forced himself to fasten his bags, slinging the larger one over his shoulder and holding the smaller in his arms.

“I will write to let you know I’m alright.” He bent to kiss his mama’s cheek, trying not to cry when she grabbed at his shirt. “But I have to go now. You understand why I have to go.”

“ _Antonio_!”

“Bye, Mama.”

Tony didn’t let himself look back as he jogged down the front steps of his childhood home, didn’t let himself look back as he climbed into the carriage and settled into the seat across from Natalia.

“Are you ready, then?” she asked, noticing but not commenting on the redness in Tony’s eyes, the way he folded his arms tight around his body as if trying to hold himself together. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” Tony lied, closing his eyes and laying his head back against the carriage seat. “Let’s just go.”

****************

The wedding ceremony was short and simple, nothing more than a few words said by an officiant who looked halfway to terrified of the tiny woman in front of him, darting confused glances at Tony as he directed them both to sign the marriage certificate.

When prompted for rings, Natalia produced two gold bands and any other time Tony might have wondered why his new wife was so prepared with rings, but tonight had been so strange he was beyond asking questions.

It took nothing more than a signature and a seal of legality and Antonio Carbonell Stark was a married man, rushing through the night with his new bride to catch a train headed for the border.

As the train pulled away from the station, Tony stared out the window and watched his home disappear behind him. Everything he had ever known, his friends and his family and the places he had learned to read and write. The orchards he had played in and the gardens where he had discovered love, the river he had daydreamed by and the stars he had spent nights memorizing.

His entire life was lost from view as they rounded a corner and tracked towards the mountains and Tony wondered for a brief second if he would ever come home again, if he ever  _wanted_ to come home again and it scared him that he didn’t know the answer to either of those questions.

Lost in his thoughts, Tony didn’t notice Natalia moving towards the back of the car, taking a seat next to a man dressed all in black and whispering quietly in Russian.

“Have you heard from my brother?” She asked, and when the man shook his head negatively, she cursed under breath. “He needs to come home.”

“He will not be happy about this.” A motion towards Tony. “You taking another husband and bringing him into our lives. This was not a wise decision, not after what happened to the first one.”

“If my brother was here like he was supposed to be, I wouldn’t have  _had_ to take another husband!” she hissed. “Do you think I  _wanted_ this?”

“Do you think he knows?” another nod towards Tony. “Do you think he suspects anything about you?”

“There’s nothing for him to suspect.” she said shortly. “I told him enough of the truth that I didn’t have to lie. Besides, he is running from something of his own, he is too busy with his own secrets to worry about mine.”

“You’re  _sure_?” the man queried. “Because if he starts asking the wrong questions–”

“I’m well aware of what will happen if he starts asking the wrong questions.” Natalia folded her arms stubbornly. “Let us all hope it doesn’t come to that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Natalia this chapter, and there is a tiny TW for a slight mention of abuse at the hands of her former husband, I’ve marked it in bold.

Natalia was just as beautiful in the morning light as she’d been at the masquerade, maybe even  _more_ so, and as Tony watched her over their dining car breakfast, he wondered again how a woman like her had ended up in a position of having to seek out a husband.  
  
She was quite nearly delicate, what with her small frame and soft voice, but there was steel in the green eyes and a firm set to the full lips that wasn’t  _delicate_ at all.

Even with her hair sleep mussed and wearing nothing but in a dressing gown–a floor sweeping, cleavage baring, fur hemmed garment completely out of place in their modest little train car– Natalia didn’t look anything close to fragile, the early morning softness just as much a mask as her risque costume from the night before.

No, a woman of Natalia’s beauty and presence shouldn’t have had to travel across the continent to find a suitable husband, and Tony might have been naive when it came to matters of the heart but he certainly wasn’t  _stupid_ when it came to matters of the mind, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his new wife was not who she said she was.

….and it was perhaps a bit worrisome that Tony knew he was being purposefully misled, and yet he went along with it anyway. After Ty, he should have been wary of any hint of duplicity, should have balked at the first hint of being lied to, and yet here he was still sipping coffee in the dining car as if nothing was amiss.   
  
Perhaps a  _bit_ worrisome that despite his entire life being turned upside down, with everything he thought was  _certain_ ripped from his hands and tossed away, Tony could still offer bland smiles and small talk over breakfast with a woman he had known less than a day, on a train hurtling towards a place he’d never been, leaving

everything he called home far behind.

He was fine.  
  
Well, he  _wasn’t_ fine, but it didn’t really matter, did it?  
  
“You’re staring, Antonio.” Natalia didn’t look up from her newspaper, scanning the articles idly. “Has the morning sun made you regret our hasty little endeavor? Things done at dusk don’t always seem so exciting at dawn.”   
  
“I wasn’t regretting anything.” Tony poured himself a fresh cup of coffee from the pot a steward had set at the table, and grimaced when he tasted it. “This isn’t the same coffee as before– is there  _vodka_ in this?”   
  
“The sun is up, time for something a little sturdier than espresso.” Natalia said absentmindedly, adding a generous amount of cream to Tony’s cup and motioning for him to try it again. “Why are you staring so intently, if you aren’t regretting what we’ve done?”  
  
Green eyes finally lifted to meet his gaze, Natalia tilting her head curiously. “What is on your mind, Antonio? You did not come to the sleeping car last night, and you were awake when I came out this morning. Did you sleep at all?”   
  
“No.” Tony hadn’t slept at all the night before. Instead he had stared out the window and watched the miles roll away behind them until he’d stopped recognizing even the silhouettes of the mountains they passed.   
  
By the time the sun had risen that morning, Tony was farther from home than he’d ever wanted to be before, and they still had so far to travel it was nearly disheartening.   
  
But he didn’t want to talk about that, and he didn’t want to talk about how he’d thought about his mamma as he tracked the stars from the windows and knew that he might never see that particular night sky ever again.   
  
And he  _really_ didn’t want to talk about how he had purposefully stayed awake so he wouldn’t fall asleep and dream of Ty again, so instead of saying anything along those lines, Tony took another drink of vodka laced espresso and started, “I was wondering if you would tell me more about yourself. I only know your name and that you are somehow intimidating enough to make even a judge crawl out of bed at some ungodly hour to rush us through a dubiously legal marriage ceremony.”  
  
“Antonio.” Natalia laughed quietly. “Don’t be ridiculous, you know more about me than that!”  
  
“Do I?” There were no heat in the words, but Tony’s dark eyes were sharp. “Because you approached me last night and seemed to know all too much of exactly what I needed to hear to go along with your plan, and yet at the same time you managed to tell me very little about yourself.”  
  
“That isn’t entirely true.” She said carefully, noting the tension lines around Tony’s eyes, the stubborn set to his jaw. “I told you my name and why I needed a husband, didn’t I?”   
  
“Hardly enough to start a marriage on, Madame.” Tony replied evenly. “I would know more about you before we cross the border into Russia, or at the first stop of the train I’ll depart and make my own way home, this marriage be damned.”   
  
“Alright.” Natalia nodded slowly, quietly impressed by the determination in Tony’s manner. Last night she had assumed that despair and an obviously broken heart would keep her new husband quiet and resistant to any sort of deeper connection, but broken hearted or not, there was a hardness in his tone now that brooked no argument.   
  
“It will take us just about a week to reach the Russian border.” She continued, watching for any sign or relief or nervousness, but Tony’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “We have several stops along the way, perhaps we can get to know each other better along the way, so when we arrive home there will be no surprises.” 

“That’s acceptable.” Tony refilled his cup and tossed it back in a few gulps, barely noticing the burn of the vodka this time around. “I need some rest, wake me when the train stops.”   
  
“As you wish.” Natalia watched Tony stumble towards the sleeping car, the alcohol and lack of sleep making his steps heavy. “Sleep well, darling.”   
  
The moment the door closed behind Tony, a man several tables over stood and made his way towards Natalia, slipping into the seat across from her.   
  
“He is not as easily convinced as we thought he would be.”   
  
“No.” Natalia pursed her lips in thought. “I assumed he was a heartsick noble looking for a way out, but he is stronger than I gave him credit for. He will not sit idly by while I keep secrets from him, not if he knows he is being lied to.”   
  
“You will have to be extra convincing then.” her companion warned. “It will not do for him to be asking too many questions. Keep him distracted, at least until we make it across the border. It will be easier to feed him half truths once we are in Sokovia and you won’t be in such close quarters.”   
  
“Mmm.” She hesitated, tapping at her bottom lip in thought. “I’m afraid my  _usual_ tricks won’t work on this one.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Sharply, the man peering down at her in concern. “Why won’t it work on him?”    
  
“His heart was broken by one who more closely resembles  _you_ than  _I_.” Natalia clarified. “And I didn’t realize that fact until it was too late. I thought perhaps he was angry that the man in the white mask had taken the woman he loved but as it turns out…”

She clicked her tongue. “…I was mistaken. It explains why he wasn’t immediately taken in with me, though. I practically had to force him to get me a drink.”   
  
“You could have walked away!” he growled. “Left him behind and found someone else! That was a party full of rich noblemen, drinking and dancing and looking to fuck anyone but their wives. How did you manage to find the one man not interested in what’s between your legs!”  
  
“It’d do you well to watch your tone with me.” Natalia warned, fingers twitching towards the knife in her dressing gown pocket. “I am aware that this complicates things, but he had already agreed to my proposition and we’d made quite a scene together, what with the way we kissed in plain view of everyone in the party. It would have been  _more_ suspicious for me to abandon him at that point.”   
  
“You like him, don’t you?” he said in disbelief. “You actually like him! You dragged someone useless into our lives because you developed feelings for some heartbroken–”   
  
“I haven’t developed feelings for him!” She interrupted angrily. “I have never compromised  _anything_ for feelings, which isn’t something you can say is it? Or have you forgotten why we lost Riley and the others!”   
  
“I have not forgotten!” he shouted “But your hands aren’t free of blood either, woman. You’ve got one husband in the ground because of your carelessness, would you have another buried as well?”   
  
“Stop shouting, you’ll wake him up.” Natalia skipped the coffee and simply took a drink from the bottle of vodka. “I have a week on the train to tell him only what’s necessary to ensure his loyalty, and if that isn’t enough then–”   
  
“Then he will have to be taken care of.” Her companion cut in. “No matter how precious and heartbroken your new husband is, if he jeopardizes our plan in anyway, he  _cannot_ stay. He will bring too much attention to our home, and that means more investigations and more danger. Your brother will be furious.”   
  
“My brother.” Another drink, Natalia’s full lips pulling into a frown. “ _If_ he ever comes home, I will deal with him then. This is all his fault anyway. Ghosts are only ghosts if they remain unseen and yet he has been leaving a path of blood everywhere he goes. If he isn’t careful, that trail will lead right back to our door step and then all our work will be for naught.”  
  
“He is doing what needs to be done.”   
  
“Yes well, so am I.”

**************

 _(Outside Conegliano)_  
  
“I am twenty seven years old.” Natalia said one evening as the train rolled through miles and miles of vineyards, the windows in the car opened just enough to bring a sweetly scented breeze to their noses. “My half brother, James, is several years older than I, and we have no other family. Our mother passed when I was a child, and it’s been nearly four winters since my father passed as well.”   
  
Tony’s eyes were closed, and for a split second Natalia thought he’d actually drifted off, but then he spoke up. “You said  _my_ father. You and your half brother have different fathers?”   
  
“Most would assume we had different mothers.” She commented, with a trace of amusement. Tony was proving to be much more intelligent than his good looks would suggest, and Natalia was both intrigued and a little worried about it. “But yes, we have different fathers.”  
  
“Yours would be the nobleman, then.” Tony still hadn’t opened his eyes. “Because if he were common, you wouldn’t be the Lady Romanova, you’d simply be Natalia. Bastard sons still reserve the right to claim their fathers title, woman are granted no such privilege. His father is common, then?”   
  
“He…is.” Natalia pursed her lips in thought, pondering exactly how much she’d have to tell Tony about James to satisfy his curiosity. “A foreigner, in fact. Our mother had an affair and James is the result. We were raised as brother and sister, but after mama passed, he left home and hasn’t been around much since.”  
  
“So there is no overly protective older brother waiting for me at your home? No one to assume I availed myself of your charms before we were legally wed, or to think I have ill intent in mind?” Tony thought for a moment and added, “How big is your estate?”   
  
“James hasn’t been home for years, and I cannot imagine he would come home simply because I am married.” Natalia shook her head, still watching– and gathering nothing– from Tony’s expression.

“No, very few of us live in the main house. There is a small garrison in the hills for protection but it is usually empty, a mews and living quarter for my Falconer, the stables of course and several out buildings for storage. We have no need for a chapel, and the laundry is there in the main courtyard. It’s not my father’s largest holding, but it is large enough for me.”  
  
“He owned several homes then?”   
  
“Only two that matter.” Natalia said casually. “The castle at  _Kaspivir_ , which has been mostly abandoned since he passed, and the manor home at  _Torinsk_ where we will live.”   
“I see.” Tony nodded, and didn’t say anything else.  
  
“I think you’ll like it.” Natalia added after a moment of silence. “There are orchards and gardens and grounds to ride on. Our stables are large, and the hunting is plenty through the hills.”   
  
Tony still didn’t answer and Natalia lowered her voice. “There are two suites in the Master’s wing of the home. I sleep in one, and you are more than welcome to sleep in the other, if you wish. Or if you prefer something smaller, there are a handful of single rooms in the same hall.”   
  
Tony’s eyes flickered then, just a brief glance before he went back to watching the sunset over the vineyards. “That’s acceptable.” 

***************

 _(Outside Senec)_  
  
“Has your family always been in Brescia?” Natalia squinted against the sun glinting bright off the surface of the lake. “My family line skips about so much, I can barely trace it more than a few generations, but Brescia is such an old city, I’d imagine you can do better than I in that sort of thing.”  
  
Four days they’d been on the train now, and despite most of Natalia’s attempts, Tony had remained fairly closed off to any conversation.

It was frustrating, to be sure. Natalia was accustomed to garnering any and all necessary information from someone with very little effort at all, doling out indulgent smiles and layers of charm to gain their trust, but Tony either didn’t care, or was simply immune and it was  _frustrating_.   
  
Even now, sitting along side of a gorgeous little lake and sipping tea as the train ran through a few minor repairs, Tony was barely looking at her, apparently content to listen to the water at the shoreline and to track the occasional bird across the sky. 

If Tony were any other man, Natalia would have taken it as an insult to her beauty that he never so much as looked at her twice.

But knowing that Tony’s heart had broken over the man in the white mask, knowing that he had cried after leaving his family and his home, Natalia also knew his reluctance to engage had nothing to do with her beauty and  _everything_ to do with the hurt that seemed to hover around his shoulders.   
  
Still it seemed… odd… that Tony had shut down so much in the last few days, moving from a man so touch starved that a kiss had nearly brought him to tears, to silent and nearly brooding, not so much dodging questions as letting them pass him by without so much of an acknowledgment.  
  
But Natalia was already endangering everything just by bringing a husband home, much less a husband who wouldn’t let questions or suspicions be placated by her  _womanly_ charms, and if Tony ended up causing trouble for the revolution because Natalia couldn’t keep him under control–  
  
Well, Tony wouldn’t be the only one paying the price.   
  
“My favorite hunting rifle was handmade there in your town.” Natalia tried again, switching tactics in an effort to bring Tony into the conversation. “A beautiful piece, it was my fathers. He had it inlaid with silver and our family crest stamped along the shoulder stock. If we’d had more time before leaving, I’d have liked to see about purchasing another.“  
  
“Should it concern me that you have a favorite rifle?” Tony actually smiled a little bit and encouraged, Natalia teased back– “Don’t be ridiculous, every Russian woman has a favorite rifle, we are not raised half as delicate as your Italian women are.”   
  
“You’ve never spent much time with an Italian woman if you would call them delicate.” Tony retorted, finally shifting from watching the lake to watching Natalia. “The Berettas are fine weapons and the original forges date back over three hundred years. My father has worked alongside the family to design firearms for decades, and I’ve dabbled in it as well.”  
  
“A nobleman designing weapons?” Natalia’s widened in surprise. She certainly hadn’t expected  _that_ , even though her mind was already racing, thinking of all the opportunities this new information could present. “That seems…unusual.”   
  
“The Stark men are iron men.” Tony raised his cup in a faux cheers, his eyes sparking in interest. “It is in our blood, as my papá would often say. The Beretta family holds the patents of course, but the Starks have been at their side for generations. It’s an interesting feeling, creating a weapon out of something as innocuous as iron.”  
  
“You enjoy the work.” Natalia said curiously. “Most noblemen wouldn’t dream of dirtying their hands, but you– you enjoy it?”   
  
“For the most part.” The spark dimmed. “I enjoy the crafting part of it, building something magnificent from nothing. Casting the molds and designing the barrels and knowing that every piece I put together will work perfectly.   
  
“My new husband makes guns.” Natalia cleared her throat so she wouldn’t sound quite so excited.  _Thank god, he might be of use after all_. “What are the parts of it you don’t enjoy?”   
  
“It’s been said that we have aided the victors of war, that our work has established new borders and boundaries and that even the kings owe us a debt.” Tony chewed at his lip as he thought. “But, it’s also been said that we are war mongers, merchants of death, profiting off the blood that spills onto the same ground we pull our ore from.”

“And some days–” one shoulder lifted in a half hearted shrug. “–some days I would be inclined to agree.”   
  
“Ah.” She was quiet a moment, mulling over the information. “So. You are from a noble family that has worked alongside a family of commoners to supply the world with firearms. It has no doubt given your family enough money to last a century, and enough reputation to last even longer, established relationships and allies that not even money could buy, and yet you would prefer to not be so well known for it?”   
  
“I’d prefer if my name was not so closely linked with death.” Tony answered. “Those who win the wars consider us heroes, those who lose call us murderers. Who’s to say which side is correct?”   
  
“I see.” Natalia steepled her fingers under her chin. “So I wasn’t all that far from the truth the other night, saying that your owl was in fact an omen of death, a symbol of violence.”  
  
“I am not a violent man.” Tony denied. “Making our fortune building weapons does not mean I enjoy using them or seek out chances to do so.”   
  
“But you certainly  _know_ how to use them, don’t you?” She pressed. “It is a foolish man who creates things he doesn’t understand, don’t you think?”   
  
“That is what my papa said the first time he put a rifle in my hands.” Tony’s smile turned melancholy. “And the first time I used a pistol. He told me if I were to make them, then I needed to know everything about them, inside and out, right down to how it felt to pull the trigger.”   
  
“A wise man.” Natalia remarked and Tony snorted, “A belligerent drunk who happens to be brilliant, if we’re being honest.”   
  
“And we  _are_ being honest aren’t we?” Natalia raised an eyebrow in question. “I realize we haven’t had the most auspicious of beginnings, but when it is just you and I, there is no reason to mince words or tell tales.”   
  


“No of course not.” Tony’s gaze was piercing and Natalia returned it with wide, innocent eyes. “You wouldn’t be lying to me about anything, Madame Romanova?”   
  
“I’ve told you nothing but the truth.” She assured him, and she  _wasn’t_ lying. Natalia hadn’t told Tony everything, but the bits and pieces she had told him were certainly the truth. “I have no reason to lie to you, husband, just like I would hope you have no reason to lie to me.”   
  
“Hm.” Sounding neither convinced but at the same time, not worried either, Tony glanced back towards the town when the train’s whistle split the air, echoing in the quiet. “Shall we continue our journey, then?”   
  
He offered his arm and Natalia tucked her small hand into the crook of his elbow, tipping her head back to ask, “Would you tell me a truth right now, Antonio?”   
  
“You can call me Tony.” he corrected, leading her down the stones along the water. “But ask anyway.”   
  
“The man in the white mask–” Natalia’s fingers tightened when she felt Tony tense against her. “Would you have killed him?”   
  
“If I thought I had the chance, yes.” Tony answered honestly, coldly. “But I like to think I’m too smart to have done it right there at the masquerade.”  
  
“And if you  _weren’t_ at the masquerade?”   
  
“I’d imagine it would feel wonderful to feel his throat give way beneath my hands.” Tony remarked, opening the door to the train car and helping her up the few steps. “Be careful not to trip, now.” 

**************

( _Stryi_ )  
  
“He didn’t even flinch.” Natalia nibbled along the crust of her bread, licking jelly from her fingers. “He told me he’d like to feel that mans throat give way and didn’t even  _flinch_. I’m beginning to think there’s more to my beleaguered nobleman then beautiful hair and sad eyes.”   
  
“A gun maker with a penchant for violence.” her companion assembled a messy sandwich and took a big bite. “What a novel concept.”  
  
“I don’t think he has a penchant for violence.” Natalia disagreed. “I think he could be dangerous if pushed, simply because he has the skills needed. And I think he could be violent if angry, but I don’t think he is prone to it. Not like my brother, and not like  _you_.”  
  
The man ignored the disapproval heavy in her tone. “Of course he isn’t. Pampered Italian princes don’t  _have_ to be violent, when they have been given everything they could ever want. The only time men like that turn violent is when they are denied something they assume they deserve.”

**(Slight TW– Mentions of past abuse from Natalia’s former husband)**

He uncorked a flask and took a long swig from it. “Like your first husband, you know. Do you remember how angry he was when  _you_ didn’t give into his every demand?”   
  
Natalia tugged her sleeves down a little further to hide the scars on her wrists, squashing the urge to reach across the table and slap him. “Vividly, and thank you so much for bringing it up. Though I seem to remember that if my  _body guard_  had been at his post, I’d never have had to experience that side of my dearly departed husband.” 

“Oh?” he mocked. “I thought you’d told me to stay away from the door when you were doing your wifely duties? How was I to know that when you were screaming it wasn’t in pleasu–” 

“I will kill you, Rumlow.” Natalia’s voice dropped low and dangerous, the edge of her knife glinting at the table. “So help me  _god_ , if you weren’t so important to our mission, if you weren’t my brothers closest friend I’d gut you and leave you bleeding out on the rocks, do you understand me? I will never forgive you for leaving me there that night, not  _ever_.”   
  
Brock didn’t even waver, but his eyes sparked at the challenge. “Little woman, put your blade away. Your brother has been gone so long, you’ve forgotten that you aren’t actually in charge. Accidents happen all the time, especially to little princesses who run their mouths, do you understand?”   
  
“Sleep with one eye open, Brock.” Natalia warned. “If ever both your eyes are shut, you will never see the morning light again.”   
  
The arrogant–and murderous– soldier only lifted his glass as if toasting her, laughing out loud over the rage that flitted across her face. “Wait until we get home to Sokovia. We will see who is too nervous to sleep at night.”   
  
Whatever Natalia would have replied, whatever threats she might had made– or carried through on– was set aside by a shout from the other car and her eyes widened in alarm when she recognized Tony’s voice saying, “ _No_!”   
  
“Go to him.” Rumlow grunted, going back to his meal. “Perhaps your charm will be more appealing if he is waking from a nightmare. Not a man alive who would say no to a body like yours keeping them warm.”   
  
“You disgust me.” Natalia’s lip curled, but she left him anyway, gathering her skirts and hurrying towards the door.

***************

Tony was dreaming.   
  
“ _Why do we always stay here?” he looked around the hotel room, at the dark red drapes and plush carpet, the bed still mussed from their love making, the fire crackling brightly in the otherwise dark room. “Ty darling, why can’t we stay at your home?”_  
  
“ _Why would you want to stay there?” Tiberius was already getting dressed, having washed every hint of sweat or cologne off his skin, nothing more than a flush in his cheeks evidence that he and Tony had spent the better part of the evening tangled naked in bed together._  
  
“ _Why would you want to stay there?” Ty repeated. “When we can mess this room together, then you can go home and relax in your own bed?”_  
  
“ _It’s not my bed I’m yearning for.” Tony tilted his head, letting the curls fall down into his eyes so he was looking up at Ty through a curtain of dark hair and lashes. “But I would love to spend all night with you. To wake up to the sun together, to have our morning espresso and breakfast in bed.”_  
  
“ _Nonsense.” Ty smoothed out his waist coat and ran careful fingers through his hair. “There’s no reason for any of that.”_  
  
“ _Right.” Tony pushed away the hurt at Ty’s impatience. Surely his lover didn’t mean to sound so cruel. “And you have to be home with Kala.”_  
  
“ _I don’t want to be home with her.” Rushing to placate him, Ty smiled sweetly. “Antonio, you know I don’t want to be home with her. I’d stay with you all the time if I could, you know that don’t you? If I were able to, I’d leave her and run away with you and we could be together always.”_  
  
“ _You mean that?” Tony whispered, pursing his lips automatically as Ty bent to kiss him gently. “You’d run away with me?”_  
“ _Somewhere where we didn’t have to hide.” Ty assured him. “But because of my business and for political reasons, it’s very important I keep up appearances with my wife.”_  
  
“ _Of course.” Tony nodded automatically, believing every word with his whole heart. “I know you have to stay with her for political reasons.”_  
  
“ _I don’t love her.” Ty continued, and Tony felt a thrill run through him. “I don’t, but I can’t just abscond with a business partners son and disgrace my family either, you understand.”_  
  
“ _I understand.” He repeated obediently, and then added shyly, “I love you, Ty. Very much.”_  
  
“ _Oh um, thank you..” Ty’s smile was suddenly a little strained, but surely Tony was imagining that, wasn’t he? “That is to say, you are a lovely man, Tony. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”_

****************

“Antonio?” Natalia shook Tony’s shoulder when he cried out again, frowning when she felt his pulse racing. “Antonio, darling wake up. It’s just a bad dream. Wake up.”   
  
Tony jerked awake, sitting up fast enough to startle Natalia but still snatching at her hand to steady her without missing a beat. “Sorry.” he said immediately. “Sorry, I–”   
  
“There’s no need to be sorry.” Natalia squeezed his hand comfortingly, purposefully softening her tone and leaning in close. “No need to be sorry, husband. But you look exhausted, why don’t you come to bed with me?”  
  
“No.” Tony pulled away, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine to sleep out here—“  
  
“Antonio.” She clicked her tongue sympathetically. “You’ve been sleeping on these horrid benches for days now, come to bed with me. I promise I won’t compromise your virtue—“ she winked and he flushed. “—but there’s no shame in seeking warmth from someone when our dreams turn terrible, hm?”  
  
“It wasn’t a terrible dream.“ Tony denied. "Just– just an unpleasant memory is all. I’m fine."   
  
“Darling, when was the last time anyone even held you?” Natalia crooned, drawing her fingers through his hair and  _hating_  it, the sincere gesture tainted by knowing that Rumlow was watching to make sure she was doing all she could to gain her husbands trust, knowing that he would see the comfort as something  _else_ altogether.

“Come to bed. You need someone to hold, and I will rest better knowing you are sleeping.”  
  
Tony still looked suspicious, and Natalia murmured something soft in Russian, then switched back to English to say, “Darling, you distrust the entire world because of a broken heart. But surely you can trust me long enough to rest for a few hours, hm?”  
  
Tony wavered, blinking a few times and rubbing at his eyes.   
  
 _God_ he was exhausted. Emotionally wrung out and physically exhausted, heart sick over Ty and wary about his new wife and the man she kept sneaking away to talk to. Tony was  _exhausted_ , and when he closed his eyes he swayed forward, drawn towards Natalia’s warmth and the soft perfume that lingered on her clothes.  
  
“Come along, Antonio.” She whispered, and Tony gave in a little, resting his forehead on her shoulder and sighing when small fingers filtered through his hair again. “Let’s go to bed. You’re safe with me, hm? Come along.”  
  
Tony gave in a little more, letting Natalia pull him to his feet and lead him back to the sleeping car, so desperate to just sleep he didn’t even notice her locking the door behind them.

He couldn’t help but notice the flash of skin as Natalia stepped out of her simple traveling dress and let it drop to the floor, wearing nothing but her long chemise as she urged him towards the bed, but he looked away from the curves and softness of her frame.

He had no interest in that sort of thing.   
  
Tony lay back into the pillows tentatively, not quite sure he trusted Natalia enough to sleep next to her all night, but then slender arms wound around his waist and her head moved to rest over his heart and Tony suddenly  _ached_ with the need to hold her, to hold  _someone_.  
  
“It’s alright.” Natalia whispered when she heard his breath catch, budging closer and humming in approval when his hands landed tentatively at her hips. “We aren’t a traditional couple, you and I, but there’s nothing wrong with seeking comfort together.”  
  
“Okay.” Tony didn’t sound like he entirely believed her, but he also sounded too tired to argue, and Natalie sighed in relief when he slid towards sleep within a few moments.  
  
He would hate her if he knew, of course, would be  _furious_ that she’d used her body— even for something as innocent as this— to gain his trust and strengthen their tenuous bond, but it was for the greater good. When it was all said and done, the more Tony trusted and cared for her, the easier it would be to explain the unsavory parts of her life, the secrets she was holding back from him.  
  
And it would be easier if he was comfortable in her arms, whether they lay together as spouses or not, when it came time to lie to the authorities and others who asked too many questions.  
  
Natalia reminded herself of all this and more as she hummed soft lullabies and snuggled deeper into the covers.  
  


There was a reason to be here with this man she didn’t love, valid reasons for her to deceive him, reasons that would make the look on Samuel and Ronin’s face worth it when she came home with a husband.   
  
 _Worth it_. She decided when Tony sighed in his sleep and held her tighter.  _It would all work out._  
  
And later, when Tony rolled in the bed and curled around her smaller frame, murmuring a quiet “Thank you, I didn’t know how badly I needed this.” Natalia felt first, a flare of affection for the man, and then a flicker of remorse.  
  
Things were becoming much more complicated than they were supposed to.   
  
This wasn’t good.

**************  
  


( _On the way to_   _Kiev_ )  
  
“Good morning.” Tony set a cup of coffee down in front of Natalia, topping it with a healthy dollop of cream before adding some to his own mug.   
  
“You’re getting used to our drink.” She said approvingly, and Tony smiled faintly, replying– “That, or I’m getting accustomed to being slightly drunk all the time.”   
  
Natalia laughed, reached across the table to pat at Tony’s hand, and went back to reading her newspaper, the both of them content to sip at their coffee in comfortable silence.  
  
Things had changed between them after spending the night together. Tony was warmer now, greeting Natalia with a smile instead of a disinterested glance. His laughs were easier, though they were still few and far between, and he talked more now– about his family, about growing up in Brescia, about his love for the music and theater and nearly obsessive interest in technology as it developed.   
  
Natalia talked some too, vague yet interesting stories about her childhood, about her father’s business and why she chose to live in the manor house instead of the castle. She had a few tales about her brother James and how he’d taught her to play pranks on the servants and how to climb trees.   
  
Tony laughed out loud when she talked about how James had dyed her hair green one day while trying to give her raven black locks, and he frowned when she told him how James had simply up and left after her mama had passed away, and how she’d only seen him a handful of times in the years since.   
  
“I don’t have siblings.” Tony admitted one day over lunch, watching the trees flash by outside the windows as the train climbed yet another mountain. “I always wished I did, but Papa barely had time for me, I can’t imagine he’d have time for another.”   
  
“Surely you had a best friend who was like a brother.” Natalia encouraged. “Cousins? Anyone like that?”   
  
“My best friend growing up is named James.” Tony recalled with a fond small. “But I’ve always called him Honeybear.” Natalia raised an eyebrow in question and he brushed her off. “It’s a long story involving a bee hive and a few weeks of having to treat bee stings. Another time, maybe.”   
  
“I’ll be waiting for that story specifically.” Natalia pointed her fork at him and Tony laughed again. “In fact, I’d quite like to meet this Honeybear, how would he feel about you running away with a Russian heiress you met at a masquerade ball?”   
“Honestly?” Tony wrinkled his nose a little, and Natalia found it impossibly charming. “I think he’d be less surprised about me running away and more surprised that I ran away with a  _woman_.”   
  
“Knows you well, does he?” Natalia added another shot of liquor to their cups. “And approves of your choices?”   
  
“Honeybear has in no way ever approved of  _any_ of my choices.” Tony rolled his eyes. “But he’s always supported me and yes, I’d argue he knows me better than anyone else. He taught me to swim, to ride a horse. Papa taught me how to use a rifle but it was James that taught me how to defend myself. He’s off in the army now, off saving the world I suppose. I miss him.”   
  
“I miss my James too.” Natalia surprised herself with that bit of honesty– she’d been angry at James for so long, she thought she was over missing him from her life.

“He was my older brother, my protector, taught me everything I know and then one day he was just  _gone_. Every time I saw him after, he was a different person and now it’s been so long–” she shrugged half heartedly. “– I don’t know if I’d recognize him if I passed him in the street.”   
  
“I’m sorry.” Tony said earnestly, and it hurt Natalia deep in a part of herself that she didn’t know could hurt anymore that he so obviously meant it.   
  
In just over a week, Tony had gone from cold and closed off to smiling and warm and it had taken nothing more than Natalia being willing to hold him, to soothe his bad dreams and hug him as he slept.   
  
What a broken hearted man, to have all his defenses come crumbling down after a simple show of affection.   
  
What had the man in the white mask done, to take what was obviously a sweet boy and ruin him to the point of fleeing the country with a stranger?   
  
And what would it do to Tony’s fragile sense of security when he found out everything Natalia was hiding?   
  
“I’d like to share something with you.” Natalia blurted then, spotting Rumlow approaching through the window of the next car, and not wanting the surly bodyguard to ruin the moment. “If I could be honest.”   
  
“Please.” Tony motioned for her to continue. “By all means.”   
  
“I was married once before.” She started cautiously, watching the wariness flash in Tony’s eyes. “I was quite young, and he was quite old– you know how these things can be when alliances need to be secured?”   
  
“…I’ve heard of those sorts of marriages, yes.”   
  
“Anyway.” Natalia’s fingers tightened around her drink, wording the lie carefully so it rang as true as possible. “It lasted a few years before he became sick and passed. It hurt to lose him, but I can’t honestly say I loved him. And I’ve completed my mourning period of course, but you should know that there are some that will look down on us simply because we are married so abruptly.”  
  
“I see.” Tony was quiet a moment. “An arranged marriage, then. No children?”   
  
“No children.” she answered immediately.   
  
“And your mourning period has passed?”   
  
“Yes, my period of half mourning ended several months ago.” Natalia confirmed. “I put away my black clothes and then took some time to travel to clear my head, that way it wasn’t quite as jarring to my friends and general society when I returned in my normal clothes. I’m not even thirty you know, far too young to wear a widow’s black the rest of my life.” 

“I see.” he said again, and after another moment of thought, added– “That doesn’t bother me. As you said, this isn’t the most orthodox of marriages anyway, I’m well aware this is a matter of convenience for both of us, so it won’t bother me if people speculate or insinuate that we aren’t in fact a happily wedded couple.”   
  
“Wonderful.” Natalia’s smile was perhaps on this side of too cheerful, but Tony was glancing out the window at a passing waterfall and didn’t notice. “Excuse me just a moment, I need to freshen up?”   
  
Tony patted her hand without looking away from the window and Natalia squeezed at his shoulder as she passed, checking to make sure he wasn’t watching before slipping into the next car.   
  
“Another lie successfully told?” Rumlow said immediately, and Natalia bristled. “Who knew you were so good at this when your target doesn’t care what’s in your blouse?”   
  
“I’m much more than  _pretty_ , Rumlow.” she scowled, peeking through the window at Tony. “It might shock you but I would have been years ago if I was only a  _pretty_ spy. Now what do you want?”   
  
“I received a message at our last stop that there are officers waiting to talk to you in Kiev.” He stated and Natalia cursed out loud. “Apparently your story about visiting friends in Italy wasn’t enough to convince them that you weren’t in fact smuggling state secrets across the border.”   
  
“This time I  _wasn’t_ smuggling state secrets across the border.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the start of a spectacular migraine. “But I don’t suppose they care about that, do they?”   
  
“No, I’m sure they are much more interested in all the  _other_ times you crossed the border with less devious plans than acquiring an unwitting husband.”   
  
Natalia cursed again, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. “This isn’t good.”   
  
“No, it’s not.” Rumlow agreed. “Your little pet out there is going to find out tonight that you are not even close to the woman you’ve been pretending to be.”   
  
“I haven’t been lying about everything!” she snapped and Rumlow replied– “But you’ve been lying about enough. You had better be damn certain he won’t just cut his losses and run when you are taken in for questioning.”   
  
“I’m not certain.” she said worriedly. “I’m not certain about that at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the story! This chapter gets a little dicey so buckle up. Also, slight TW for vague mentions of Natalia’s past abuse at the hands of her ex husband. 
> 
> (Also, as always, I use Google translate for the Russian phrases, apologies to anyone who actually speaks the language and has to deal with me butchering it!)

Tony and Natalia took the time to stroll arm in arm through Kiev after a lovely dinner along the river, Natalia pointing out several historic buildings, Tony’s eyes wide as he tried to take it all in.   
  
“I can’t believe you’ve never been away from home.” Natalia stopped to admire a hat in a shop as they passed, discreetly checking over her shoulder for the two men that had followed them from the restaurant. “There is so much of the world to see and Italy is so small! How could you be content to stay there?”   
  
“I’ve never really wanted to be far from home.” Tony shrugged, picking up a scarf in a beautiful shade of blue. “My work is there, my family, and the man I lov–” he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “What do you think of this color?”   
  
“I think the red rather than the blue.” Natalia decided, picking up one from another display and holding it up to the light. “There are bits of gold in this one that would make your eyes look lovely.”   
  
“If you insist.” Tony smiled down at her, pleased and happy and Natalia’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.  _He has no idea what is coming_. “Should I buy you one as well? I didn’t buy you anything for the wedding and regardless of our  _arrangement_ , a bride always deserves a present.”   
  
“Nonsense.” Natalia laughed up at him. “No, you won’t buy me anything! I have a hundred scarves at home and this one will just be added to the pile sitting at the bottom of my closet!”   
  
“I’d like to buy you something anyway.” Tony decided. “You married a nobleman, you know. I’m sure you have your wealth but I certainly have  _mine_ and I should use it for something, shouldn’t I?”   
  
“You’re happy tonight.” She noted. “Or at least drunk?” 

“I am a little drunk.” he admitted and she laughed again. “But I am also happy to be here.”

Tony dug some coins out to pay for his scarf and slung it around his neck as they kept walking. “I thought I was making a mistake for most of the journey here, but now that we’ve arrived–” he shrugged and motioned around the city square. “-it’s lovely and new and I am finally feeling as if I’ll really escape everything back home. It’s a relief, if I’m being honest. I feel as if I can finally breathe.” 

  
“Oh.” Two men crossed the street in their direction, and Natalia felt  _panic_ clawing at her throat, mentally cursing herself for refusing to let Rumlow escort them around the city. “I’m pleased to hear it. We are still a days ride still from my home but if you wanted, we could leave tonight.” She tried to hustle him down the street. “We would be there by lunch tomorrow and be settled in and–” 

  
“ _Stoy_!” one of the men called then. “ _Ne dvigaysya_!”  
  
“What did he say?” Tony started to ask, but Natalia shook her head. “No  no darling, just keep moving. Let’s go, I’m freezing cold and we need to find our rooms for the night.”   
  
She froze when another pair of men rounded the corner just ahead, effectively boxing them in.   
  
“Natalia?” Tony asked quietly. “What’s going on?”   
  
“Please.” she muttered, taking his hand and holding tight. “ _Please_ just follow my lead, and I’ll explain everything later, alright?”   
  
“Natalia?” 

“Please!” she hissed, and then turned a charming smile towards the men. “ _Dobryy vecher_ , gentlemen. Is there something myself and my husband can do for you?”   
  
“Your husband?” One of the men, a big brute with a scar across the left side of his face, leaned in to peer a little closer at Tony. “Got mixed up with the Black Widow, did you? Poor sap.”  
  
“Black Widow?” Tony repeated and Natalia shook her head, murmuring, “Don’t listen to him, Antonio.”   
  
“You don’t who your new wife is?” Another asked, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a plume of smoke in their direction. “She didn’t tell you she is wanted for questioning regarding the death of her last husband?”   
  
“Or that her Da was executed as a traitor and that she herself is under suspicion of treason of the highest sort?” a third joined in and Natalia pressed at Tony’s arm when he went very still beside her. “Or were you too distracted by her  _bounty_ –” the man leered in Natalia’s direction. “– to ask anything like that?”   
  
“You’re coming with us, Lady Romanova.” The fourth man finally spoke up, flashing an official looking badge as he stepped forward. “Your recent trip out of the country is highly suspicious, as is you returning with an apparent husband. Mr–” he paused, waiting for Tony to give his name, but Tony didn’t answer. “–whoever this unwitting fool is that you have conned into some sort of charade is free to go. Lady Romanova you are to accompany us, we have questions to ask and you have answers to give.”   
  
“Oh please.” Natalia finally found her voice again, tossing her hair over her shoulder and laughing out loud. “You’d drag a woman away on her honeymoon because of some tired old rumours? Careful boys, keep bothering me and you’ll come across as jealous.”   
  
“None of us are jealous of a man who falls prey to a poison woman.” The officer retorted. “You are free to leave, sir. Consider yourself having avoided a calamity and go on your way.”   
  
“You are being frightfully rude.” Tony finally spoke up and Natalia blinked in surprise at how exaggeratedly thick his accent suddenly was, the way he held her closer. “I’ve come to your country with  _mia moglie_ , my  _wife_ and you will detain us with lies and accusations? Do you have any idea who I am?”  
  
“I do not care who–”   
  
“My name is Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark,  _nobile dei marchesi di Brescia_  and I have come to see my new wife’s holdings before deciding to stay in your sordid–” Tony made a show of kicking muck off his shoe. “–little city. You will not be detaining my wife without myself and my counsel being present, and you  _certainly_ will not be asking her questions about her first marriage. I know all I need to know about her previous life.” 

Tony tucked a strand of hair behind Natalia’s ear in a surprisingly tender gesture and smiled down at her. “And I am confident that everything you suggest of her is lies. My own  _dolcezza_ could never keep secrets from me, I know her far too well, don’t I?”   
  
“Of course you do, husband.” Natalia crooned in response, her heart in her throat when she saw the furious glitter in Tony’s dark eyes. “What secrets could I possibly be keeping from you?”  
  
“You will have to forgive us for being wary.” The captain said flatly. “Your wife is under suspicion for many crimes, the  _least_ of which is the murder of her late husband. You would do well to watch your back with this one.”   
  
“I have no inclination to forgive you for such ridiculous accusations.” Tony announced, turning on his heel and flaring out his coat to force the officers back a few steps. “And you would do well to leave us be.”  
  
“Mr. Stark–”   
  
“You will address me as Lord Carbonell Stark, or you will not address me at all.”   
  
The men had nothing to say to that, and Tony nodded as if that had been the reaction he’d expected.   
  
“Come along,  _il mio amore_.” The arm he put around Natalia’s waist wasn’t so much comforting as it was  _demanding_ and Natasha knew she didn’t have much a choice in the matter. “Let’s go to our room and forget about this inconvenience.”   
  
“Keep your husband close by, Black Widow!” one of the officers called as they hurried away. “We will have our answers whether you give them willingly or not!”   
  
Tony didn’t look back and neither did Natalia, and neither of them spoke until they made it to the waiting hotel where Tony was all smiles and charm and every inch the proper Italian nobleman as they received their keys.   
  
Once up the curving stairs and through the door of their private rooms however, everything changed.   
  
Natalia barely had a moment to catch her breath before Tony was kicking the door shut with a bang, grabbing her by the forearms and pinning her to the wall. 

“You lied to me.” He grit out, eyes blazing in anger. “You  _lied_! Never in any of our conversations did you mention you murdered your husband, never did you say you were under suspicions of treason! What mess have you dragged me into? I didn’t agree to any of this!” 

“Darling, you can’t possibly think to run away with a Russian heiress in the middle of the night and not run into some intrigue.” Natalia said loftily, and when Tony’s hands only tightened on her arms, she warned, “You’re hurting me. I’m only going to give you one chance to let me go.” 

“I’m hurting you?” Tony snapped. “I’m  _hurting_ you? Madame I can assure you I will do far more than that unless you start telling me the goddamn truth right this–”

Too distracted by his anger, Tony didn’t notice Natalia hooking a tiny foot behind his leg and he didn’t even have time to shout before she had taken him to the floor with a neatly executed trip, his head cracking on the hardwood and leaving him stunned. 

More important than the instant headache was the knife suddenly at his throat, Natalia having snatched the blade from her bodice, her skirts about her knees as she straddled him with the tip of her knife held to his jugular.

“I told you I’d give you one chance to let me go.” Natalia was breathing hard, her hair in disarray and cheeks flushed. “Please don’t make this any worse than it already is.” 

“Because you’d hate to have the blood of another husband on your hands?” Tony mocked and then grimaced when the knife point dug a little sharper into his skin. “Are you both a murderess and a spy? Your father was executed for treason, tell me wife are you planning to follow in his footsteps? I’m sure he’d be proud.”

“My father?” Natalia hissed. “My father was a traitor with no love for his home land and he used  _me_ to smuggle letters in and out of the country because no one looked twice at a curly haired little girl going on trips with her Da. And when I was old enough to be of some  _other_ use–” 

Commotion down the stairs, the thump of soldiers boots and general shouting and fear flickered through Natalia’s eyes, her voice hushed as she hurried to continue– “When I was old enough to be of real use to him, he sold me off as a bride to his worst enemy, telling me that it was my duty to spy on the man that was to be my husband and report back to him. I was practically a  _child_ Antonio, still wanting to put ribbons in my hair and only having given up my dolls a summer past and he gave me away,  _sold_ me for the sake of his cause.” 

Tony blanched and Natalia whispered, “I won’t tell you the things my husband enjoyed doing to his child bride, but I can tell you that when the end came, it was either his life or mine and after what he’d done to me for almost ten years, I have him a far more merciful death than he deserved.” 

“But the soldiers don’t care about the bruises or the breaks or the pain–” Natalia’s eyes darted to the door as the footsteps got closer. “–they only care that a nobleman was murdered and that I know secrets enough to ruin lives and for  _that_ they will stop at nearly nothing to stop me. I am vulnerable here, more so than I am at home so they will try to take me.” 

Someone pounded at the door, shouting orders in Russian and Natalia threw the knife to the other side of the room, fisting both hands in Tony’s shirt and pleading, “You have the power to save me or condemn me right now, Antonio. I will explain as much as I can if given the chance, but if you let them take me away I will not survive to see another sunrise, whether my death comes at their hands or my own. I did not choose this life and yet I cannot escape it, would you see me punished for that?”

Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t have  _time_ to say anything as a battering ram was applied to the door and it started to break at the first blow. 

Instead he flipped them over so Natalia was beneath him, put both hands at the top of her bodice and when she nodded quickly, he ripped the material right in half so when the soldiers came rushing through the door–

–they found a man and his wife locked in a passionate embrace on the floor, moaning into a thorough messy kiss. Buttons were strewn about, shoes kicked off, coats thrown haphazardly on the floor as if the couple hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other long enough to even make it to bed.

“ _Izvinite menya_.” The captain cleared his throat. “But we were downstairs and received word that there was a domestic argument taking place in the room. Considering how the Black Widow’s previous marriage ended we thought it best to–“

“To stall my honeymoon for the second time in one night?” Tony cut in, and drew a pistol from the holster on his back, pointing it calmly at the captain without moving off of Natalia at all. “In my country, it is not uncommon to shoot a man for interrupting a lovers interlude. Tell me Captain, would you like it through the heart or through the head?” 

“You are not going to threaten a member of the Russian–” 

“I don’t give a god  _damn_ what you are a member of.” Tony stood to his feet then, pistol held steady, head tipped back and a cold smile playing about his lips. “You are nothing but a commoner, your entire life set to serve those above you and my dear man, I am far  _far_ above you.”

"I will have you name and your badge sir, as well as the name of your commanding officer. In the morning I will be charging you with a formal complaint, suggesting you are stripped of your duties and set out on your ass for being  _stupid_ enough to accost myself and my wife not once but twice on the same night, stopping us in the street to fling wild accusations, breaking down the door of my hotel room, insulting my wife yet again with that ridiculous nickname.” 

The Captain started to stammer a reply and Tony slashed his hand through the air to silence him. “I may look the part of a dandy, sir but I can assure you I am not someone you will want as an enemy. Take your men and go or you will see first hand that I make no idle threats.”   
  
There was a tense moment where the Captain seemed like he might call Tony’s bluff, confident with five men at his back to simply storm in and carry Natalia away, but the sound of the pistol being cocked had him reconsidering and one by one the soldiers shuffled away down the hall, the last closing the nearly mangled door behind him as best he could. 

Once they were alone Natalia went to check the door in the adjoining sitting room, and Tony moved heavy chair in front of it as well to further deter another unscheduled interruption. She tried the windows to see that they were securely locked and he moved their bags from the bedroom to the parlor, propping Natalia’s in front of the smaller couch, his own in front of the larger one. 

The table in the bedroom was slid over to bar the damaged door, and while Tony was doing that, Natalia drew the curtains over the window, but lit a lamp and placed it in the wash basin so it would cast shadows and give the appearance of people in the room. 

When all the preparations were finished, the room as secure as it would be for the time being, Natalia finally stopped in front of a mirror to take her hair down, shaking loose the pins and gathering them into her bag. 

“Thank you.” she said quietly, tears threatening even the simple words, shaken to her core by how badly the night had almost gone. “That is as close to being taken as I’ve ever been and for the first time I didn’t have a plan to escape. That might have very well been my end if you hadn’t spoken up.” 

Tony didn’t say answer, only undid his neckerchief and stuffed it into his bag along with his jacket.   
  
“They weren’t really soldiers.” She continued after a moment, watching him carefully through the mirror. “That is to say, not really  _Russian_ soldiers. All this land that Russia calls her own, they all have different armies and soldiers. The noblemen keep their own garrisons and run their own piece of the world and yes, my Da was executed for treason against Russia, but they are coming along to blame me for my first husband’s death, and that is not at the order of the Tsar. I doubt he cares at all about this sort of thing.”   
  
Still no answer, and Natalia played at the edges of her torn bodice as she thought about what to say next.   
  
“They shouldn’t have known I was here.” she finally said. “Very few knew I was even leaving the country and I returned much sooner than I had anticipated. That means someone told the soldiers ahead of time and they were lying in wait for me. I would apologize for that, I hadn’t intended for you–”   
  
“– to ever find out?” Tony interrupted. “Was that your plan? To get me to your home and hope I would never question a thing I saw? Do you think me to be so stupid?”   
  
“Lots of men simply ignore the things they wish they weren’t seeing.” Natalia stated simply. “I had assumed you would do the same.” She raised a curious eyebrow. “I hadn’t assumed you would be  _armed_ though, or brave enough to face down the soldiers like that.”   
  
“Not brave.” Tony said shortly, stretching out on the couch and closing his eyes, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “Angry.”   
  
“A far more destructive quality than bravery, to be sure.” Natalia seated herself on her own small sofa, her hand still shaking as she folded them in her lap. “I’m glad your anger led to my life being saved though I am sorry to be the reason for it.”   
  
“No you’re not.” Tony didn’t even twitch, nothing more than resignation in his voice. “You’re not sorry you made me angry and you’re not sorry you lied. You have everything you needed tonight– a husband as a plausible cover story, safety from soldiers that would try to take you away, and I’d imagine some measure of time before they attempt something like this again. You’re not sorry at all.”

Natalia’s mouth opened to argue, then closed with the realization that he was entirely correct.   
  
“After I see you safely to your home, I will be returning to Italy.” Tony said then. “I’ve had enough of this farce. I thought a marriage to you would provide me with an escape from my own turmoil and perhaps the chance at an anonymous life but instead you’ve brought me right into the midst of your own troubles. I’d rather fight my battles on familiar ground, than fight a strangers war in a country that isn’t my home.”   
  
“I understand.” Natalia made sure her voice was carefully neutral, not giving away the guilt that was constricting her throat and settling like bile in her stomach. “For what it’s worth, I never thought you’d have to see or know all this, at least not for a long time. I thought maybe we’d have the winter before my less polite secrets came to light. I didn’t mean to put you in this position so soon.”   
  
“For what it’s  _worth_? Your word is worth nothing, Lady Romanova.” Tony said coldly. “I thought I was trading one relationship set on lies for one set in convenience, and instead I find myself sharing a room with a woman whose mistruths might cost me my very life.”   
  
Tony rolled so his back was facing her, the words bitter as he muttered– “Don’t know why I’m surprised, though. T’would seem I have a type, wouldn’t it?”   
  
*****************  
In the morning, Tony was full of charm again, holding Natalia’s arm as they left the hotel, helping her up into the carriage and leaving a generous tip with the doorman, but it was all a show for the soldiers who lurked just down the street and watched every move they made.   
  
“Your coat, my love.” Tony held up the warm cape. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill, what a terrible end to our honeymoon that would be.”   
  
“ _Blagodaryu vas_ , husband.” Natalia smiled down at him and Tony smiled back, but his eyes were blank. “Are you joining me in the carriage or riding up front for a spell.”   
  
“Leaving my wife to travel alone?” Tony shook his head. “A gentleman would never.”   
  
The moment the door to the carriage was shut, the matched geldings merrily on their way, Tony turned to ask, “How long until the borders of Sokovia?”   
  
“We will be there by nightfall.” She answered immediately. “And I wired ahead to let them know we are coming. The rooms should be ready for us.”   
  
“Separate rooms.” Tony said flatly, and Natalia nodded. “Separate rooms.”   
  
“Very well then.”   
  
They rode in silence for hours, Tony staring ostensibly out the small window, Natalia staring down at her hands.   
  
There had been a few moments on the train when it had just been the two of them, a few moments where Natalia had found herself honestly laughing, her words less guarded than they ever were. Antonio was her husband in name only and there wasn’t anything close to romantic sparking between the pair, but she would wager a guess that this time with the Italian was the closest she’d come to having a friend in years, perhaps even ever and it hurt in some small, secret part of herself that she had ruined it so suddenly.   
  
Antonio might very well never forgive her, might drop her in Sokovia and turn and leave her behind and he’d have every right to do so, Natalia wouldn’t blame him.   
  
What a fool she’d been to so badly misjudge the pain in his dark eyes for  _weakness_  that night at the masquerade.   
  
Antonio Carbonell Stark was not a weak man– broken hearted and angry but certainly not  _weak_ and Natalia could only pray that his anger wouldn’t lead him to turn her in to the soldiers anyway, that he wouldn’t further ruin things simply out of spite.   
  
And as the border to Sokovia grew nearer, she prayed with her whole heart that her brother wasn’t waiting at home.   
  
If James was as far gone as the rumours said he was, Antonio would be seen as a spy, an interloper, a  _threat_ –  
  
–And then he might not live long enough to turn her in at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony had never even  _heard_ of Sokovia. 

It took most of the day to reach the borders of the little country and another several hours to reach the manor house Natalia told him about, and Tony spent the entire trip staring out the small window of the carriage watching the unfamiliar terrain roll by.   
  
 _Sokovia_.   
  
He prided himself on being familiar with most world events, even the ones outside his corner of Italy, and he’d read about the wars taking place across the Atlantic, the former British colonies warring with anyone who looked at them twice– the Brits, the French, their own native peoples,  _themselves_.

Howard had insisted that Tony know about the world that existed outside of Brescia so Tony had studied and read and learned all he could but in all those hours in his library and at the public forums, he had never  _once_ heard of Sokovia.   
  
Yet another reminder that for all his knowledge, Tony knew very little in the grand scheme of things– very little about the world, very little about matters of love and heartbreak… very little about the woman who was his wife. 

“We should be able to see the manor house from the hill.” Natalia spoke up then, the first time she’d said anything at all since leaving the city earlier that morning. “It will only be a few minutes now.”   
  
Tony didn’t answer– and Natalia hadn’t expected him to– but he leaned forward to see and she took that as a good sign.  _Anything_ was better than stony silence and purposefully averted glances, and really, the more invested and interested Tony was in her life, perhaps the harder it would be for him to turn his back on her.   
  
Tony felt Natalia’s eyes on him but didn’t bother turning to meet her gaze, deciding instead to keep watch for the first glimpse at the manor. He wasn’t ready to apologize for how he’d treated her the night before, he wasn’t even sure he  _should_ apologize, but while he was sorting out his thoughts, Tony didn’t dare try to talk.   
  
 _The last thing they needed was another argument._  
  
The home was beautiful in an imposing sort of way. Made of dark wood and even darker rock, it rose up abruptly from the surrounding areas with only a few outbuildings as accompaniment, no hedges and no gardens visible from the front, not even a fountain to soften the  _suddenness_ of the dwelling. The entire area was rolling hills and thick forests and then  _nothing_ stretching out until the manor appeared.   
  
The house was almost defiant there in the middle of the plateau, all sharp edges and steep walls and gabled roofs, bars visible on the windows even from this distance. The door was closed and the gates beyond it locked shut, a high fence stretching into the forest on either side so there was only one way in to the manor drive, and one way out.   
  
 _Defiant_ and  _ominous_ were the words that came to mind, and Tony sent a sidelong glance towards Natalia, thinking those words perfectly described her as well.   
  
There was no butler waiting to welcome the Lady Romanova home, no children tearing down the stairs to clamber for hugs, not even a maid there at the gates to wave them through. The coachman had to come back and hold his hand out for a large metal key that Natalia retrieved from her skirt pocket before he could force the locks open and walk the horses onto the drive.   
  
“Take us around back to the falconers lodge.” Natalia told the coachmen when he returned the key after relocking the gates. “I don’t want the carriage here in the front.” 

“Yes ma’am.”  
  
Around the back, the property looked even emptier, if that were possible. What must have originally been an impressive garden had long ago gone to seed, and what hedges were left were spindly and bare. There were supports made for climbing plants and rows of pots stacked alongside the garden wall, various gardening tools accumulated but obviously rarely used. There might have been an orchard as well, Tony thought perhaps the withered trunks and branches resembled apple trees, but there was no way of really knowing without asking and Tony didn’t want to ask. 

The whole thing looked  _depressing_ , and Tony’s heart sank in his chest.   
  
“I remember thinking it was pretty here.” Natalia said quietly, almost sadly as they passed a row of hanging baskets that must have been dripping with flowers in years past. “When I was a child I remember these gardens as absolutely lovely. Now of course, I wonder if they were lovely or if I was just naive.”   
  
“Hm. I know the feeling.” Unbidden, Tony’s mind flashed back to the masquerade where they had met, and the masquerades he’d attended before that. So many parties where he’d been too blinded by the glitter and the glitz and being in  _love_ that he hadn’t seen how poorly the masks hid the secrets. Now it was all he could see— lies barely covered by sequins, half truths dusted over with gold, and not for the first time since that night, Tony thought he’d never want to go to a masquerade again.  
  
 _Were they ever lovely or was I just naive?_  
  
The carriage came to a stop at the back of the house and Natalia motioned for Tony to follow her up the steps and inside, telling him to, “Leave your bag, the coachman will bring it later.”   
  
“If it’s all the same to you, Lady Romanova–” Tony retrieved his bag anyway. “–I’d keep my things with me at all times, thank you.”   
  
“I’m a spy, Antonio.” Natalia said softly. “Not a  _thief_.”   
  
“I’m fairly certain those two things go hand in hand.” Tony answered coolly and inclined his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

***************  
  
The foyer of the house was dusty but elaborate, complete with columns that seemed out of place in a fairly modest sized manor and statues in several niches and corners. A grand staircase took up most of the back wall, narrowing and curving as it rose towards the second floor and the chandelier above their heads was distinctly ornate, most likely custom made, most likely one of a kind.   
  
Tony ran his fingers over the detailed leafs and vines etched into the banister as they climbed the stairs and nearly tripped over the unexpectedly plush carpet at the start of the hall. He raised his eyebrows when he saw not a single picture on the walls, not even a  _shadow_ as if portraits had hung there before and were taken down. There wasn’t a nail or fastener or even a bit of wire to show that anything had  _ever_ been intended to hang there.   
  
The corridor was lined with doors and every single one of them was open into empty bedrooms, nearly empty sitting rooms, one even opened into a library with three walls of books and not a single piece of furniture to sit and read them on.   
  
Most homes showcased their wealth with rooms full to bursting with expensive pieces and yet the manor seemed to be bragging about its emptiness, luxurious down to the tiniest details and yet not a single hint as to who lived there to enjoy it.   
  
Much like the woman wrapped in fur and silk and jewelry, who kept her eyes carefully blank and her smile carefully bland and let nothing personal show through, her entire demeanor announcing that someone  _should_ want to know her, but would never truly know  _her_. 

Ominous and maybe just a hint defiant.   
  
“This is your room.” Natalia stopped to open a door at the very end of the hall, showing Tony into a huge bedroom suite. “It belonged to my brother James, but it’s been more than a decade since he’s stayed at the manor. Anytime he’s in the area he sleeps in the Falconer’s lodge and it’s been years since he’s done that, too. The room might as well be yours.”   
  
Tony looked around with mild interest, noting the massive four poster bed in one corner and the stone fireplace at the other, a door on the other side of the room that most likely led to the closet.   
  
“We put fresh dressings on the bed and restuffed the mattress before I left for Italy.” Natalia continued. “You should sleep well tonight, and however many nights you decide to stay.”   
  
“Your room?” Tony asked and Natalia pointed back across the hall. “I see.”   
  
Natalia watched in silence as he put his bags down in one of the overstuffed chairs at the fireplace before walking the perimeter of the suite, running his hands over the bare walls and pressing at the bed absentmindedly.   
  
“What are you thinking?” she finally asked and Tony didn’t bother meeting her eyes when he replied, “Does it matter?”   
  
“In some contexts.” she allowed. “And seeing as how you are in  _my_ home, yes I’d like to know what you are thinking.”   
  
“I’m thinking there must be a reason for there to be no pictures in this house.” Tony said after another moment. “The walls are perfectly smooth as if they were never meant to have pictures at all. It isn’t natural, not in any home at all, much less the home of a noblewoman.”   
  
“And?”   
  
“ _And_ I’m thinking the walls were redone recently enough for it still too look odd, but long enough ago that it doesn’t bother you anymore.” he finished. “A father and daughter who spy together, a brother who has all but disappeared from existence. Madame Romanova if I didn’t know better, I’d think neither you nor the rest of your family ever existed at all.”   
  
“Hm.” She cocked her head, green eyes narrowing. “And you have pictures in your home in Brescia, then?”   
  
“Hundreds.” Tony looked around the empty room again. “But my family has never been one to live in the shadows. All of our triumphs and all of our sins are always there in the light for all to see.”   
  
“All your triumphs and all your sins.” Natalia repeated. “I should be so lucky. There are secrets in my family that not even  _I_  know, secrets to make the ones I keep seem tame by comparison.”   
  
“My Mama says that secrets bring shadows to our hearts.” Tony countered. “That anger brings winter to our souls and eventually all seems dark no matter where we look. I never knew what she meant until the masquerade ball.”   
  
“When you met me?” Natalia hated how sad that made her, but Tony shook his head negatively. “Ah, you mean when you saw the man in the white mask there with his woman.”   
  
“Yes.” Tony closed his eyes briefly and when they opened again, Natalia caught a flash of the raw  _pain_ she had seen that night at the ball. “That’s exactly what I mean.”   
  
Silence in the room for a long moment, Tony’s expression shuttering and falling away before he managed to compose himself again and in the split second before that composure was firmly back in place, Natalia blurted, “I have a secret I’d like to share with you, Antonio.”   
  
“I’ve had my fill of your secrets.” Tony answered, the brief vulnerability gone from his gaze. “So thanks all the same, but I think I’ll let you hold on to it.”   
  
“Please.” she held out her hand but Tony didn’t take it. “I’ve misled you over many things–”   
  
“The word you are looking for is  _lied_. You didn’t mislead me, you  _lied_.”   
  
“I’ve lied to you about many things.” Natalia amended, lifting her chin stubbornly. “But I don’t want to lie about this one. You saved my life in Kiev and I owe you a truth for that at least.”   
  
“A truth for a life.” Tony scoffed but there was no heat, no anger in the words. “Seems a fair trade.”   
  
“Meet me in the kitchen at sundown.” Natalia ignored his words. “Just one secret, Antonio. And then I will help you with whatever it takes for you to get home.”   
  
“Fine.” Tony waved her off. “Sundown.”   
  
“Thank you.” Natalia excused herself from the room, shutting the door behind her quietly, and the moment she was gone Tony fell backwards onto the bed and covered his face with his arm.   
  
A little more than month ago he’d been in love, head over heels for Tiberius and so sure that they would be running off into a happily ever after together. A little more than week ago he’d been heartbroken, thinking he could murder Tiberius where he stood on the dance floor with his  _wife_ , taking a chance with a mysterious woman and fleeing in the night.   
  
And now he was here, alone in a house with no family, feeling as if the shadows were creeping in around the edges of his broken heart and the winter was taking hold in his soul just like his Mama said it would.  
  
He was tired of being angry, tired of being sad, tired of being lied to–  _god_ Tony was so tired of being lied to.   
  
If Natalia was going to offer him a truth, he would take it, just to remind himself that not all was lost.   
  
And in the morning he would wire home and confess how stupid he had been, find a train back home to Brescia and face Ty and the rumours and the shame and he would be  _fine_.   
  
Eventually, he would be fine.  
  
***************  
  
The sun had been down for some time when Tony woke up again and even though he was already late to meet Natalia, he took the time to straighten his hair and smooth his clothes before heading for the stairs.   
  
No sense letting anyone know how out of place– how  _overwhelmed_ – he felt and the best disguise for that sort of thing was a haughty attitude and impeccable sense of dress, so Tony even snatched the scarf he’d bought in Kiev and wound it around his neck as well.

Feeling as prepared as he would ever be to face Natalia and whatever her truth was, Tony took the stairs quickly, turning the corner to come into the kitchen–

–and then stopping in surprise and embarrassment over what he’d almost walked in to, ducking back behind the kitchen door and peering around it curiously.   
  
A man Tony hadn’t seen yet sat in one of the kitchen chairs and Natalia sat on his lap, straddling his lap with her skirts pulled up to her knees, her head tucked into a broad shoulder. Big hands smoothed up and down her back, the man’s voice nothing more than a rumble as he spoke quiet things into her ear, the accent obviously American.   
  
Standing behind Natalia and leaning over them both was another man, this one with inked designs all over his arms and extending up his neck, stopped only by a scar that split down his ear and disappeared up into his hairline. His voice sounded flat, almost as if he were purposefully trying to not have an accent at all and his hand was far too high on Natalia’s thigh to be casual. The other hand was buried in her hair, tugging her back for longer and longer kisses, only trading off so the first man could kiss her as well.   
  
The entire scene was intimate and  _private_ and Tony knew he was intruding, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.   
  
Natalia was soft and relaxed– which was a surprise all in itself– a sweet smile on her face as the men took turns holding her, kissing her palm and her knuckles and then her lips, trading murmurs of “I love you” and “I missed you” and “So glad you’re home, sweetheart.”   
  
Tony started to back away, tried to be as quiet as possible as he left so he wouldn’t disturb them further, but stopped when he heard the tattooed one say– “Talia, I thought we were supposed to meet the man you brought home with you?”   
  
“He was supposed to be here at sundown.” Natalia sighed. “But I’m not surprised he didn’t come. He was  _very_ angry with me when the soldiers stopped us at Kiev and has been ever since.”   
  
“He didn’t hurt you?” the first man asked, and Tony was struck again by the obvious  _American_ in his voice. He knew the former British colonies were embroiled in yet  _another_ war and that many former slaves had fled their home for safety– and perhaps the dark skinned man wasn’t a former slave at all, but it was still  _odd_ that he was here in Russia and so far from home.   
  
“No, my love.” Natalia murmured. “He didn’t hurt me. In fact he saved my life when the soldiers came to the hotel.“   
  
“Then he shouldn’t be worried about meeting us.” the second man stated in that same flat tone. “If he saved your life, Samuel and I owe him a thanks, yeah? He shouldn’t be scared.”   
  
“I don’t think he’s scared, Ronin.” A beat of silence as if they had kissed. “I think he’s angry. I  _know_ he’s angry. I wanted him to meet the both of you because I thought it might make him feel better to know some sort of  _truth_ about me. Maybe it would convince him I am actually a woman with a heart, not only a spy, not only the Black Widow looking for my next victim.”   
  
“You think he is angry enough to turn you into the soldiers?” Samuel asked. “Because I will kill him before I let him take you, Talia. I will  _kill_ him.”  
  
“Hush, darling.” Natalia shushed him quickly. “I was afraid Antonio would turn me in as well, but now I think he just wants to go home. At least the problems there were familiar to him.”  
  
“What problems?” Ronin questioned. “What’s he hiding from? What’s so bad he’d up and run away with you in the middle of the night?”   
  
“A broken heart.” Natalia sounded sad and Tony frowned as he listened. “There was a man at the masquerade in a white mask and I think Antonio was a drink away from killing him right there, even with all those witnesses. He didn’t tell me why, but the man was dancing with a woman who was most certainly expecting. It didn’t take long to decipher what had most likely happened.”  
  
“Poor bastard.” From Ronin, and in the shadows it looked like he had picked Natalia up and gathered her into his own lap. “Can’t blame him for running from that sort of thing. A broken heart is bad enough, but to see them with someone else…“ 

“Course he wanted to run.” Samuel agreed. “A man like that would be wary of being lied to. Can’t blame him for that. How do you think he will handle us, though? Seeing as how you two are  _officially_ married but Ronin and I spend most every night in your bed."   
  
“I’m thinking he isn’t interested in what’s up Talia’s skirts–” Tony didn’t see what Ronin did, but Natalia giggled over it, the laugh sliding into a moan. “– so he wouldn’t half care, so long as he knows we aren’t going to kill him over it.”   
  
There was quiet for a few minutes, nothing more than the rustle of clothing and heavy breathing and Tony was just starting to feel bad about listening when Natalia spoke up again.   
  
“I misjudged him, do you know? I thought Antonio was so broken he would be easy to fool, but what I thought was  _weakness_ in him wasn’t weakness at all. He’s simply hurt, has lost all he loved and ran away from the rest. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”   
  
“Sounds like everyone else’s story.” Samuel grunted. “Lost what we loved and left the rest of it behind. He’ll fit in alright with the rest of us.”   
  
“You want him to stay, don’t you?” Ronin, now. “Do you think he will?”   
  
“I want him to stay.” Natalia admitted. “So long I’ve lived this life and I’ve never felt guilty for what I’ve had to do to survive, but I feel guilty for lying to  _him_. I feel guilty for bringing him into this and for nearly getting him killed– Antonio doesn’t deserve this life and he certainly doesn’t deserve the one he left behind.”   
  
“This life won’t be any easier than the one in Italy though.”   
  
“But this life won’t flaunt his mistakes and heartbreak in front of him at parties either.” she countered. “I want him to stay, not just so he doesn’t turn me in, but also because he had just barely started to smile again and I  _ruined_ it in Kiev. I’d like a chance to change that. He is a sweet soul, a brilliant soul and I would correct what I’ve wronged before he leaves."   
  
“Black Widow.” Samuel again, and Tony’s cheeks turned red when he saw the three shadows meld into one as Samuel joined Ronin and Natalia in front of the fire. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a heart beneath that red hair and scandalous gown.”  
  
“You know damn well I have a heart, Samuel Wilson.” Natalia laughed then, high and breathless. “It belongs wholly to the two of you, doesn’t it? And my dress wasn’t  _half_ this scandalous before you and Ronin ripped the buttons off.”  
  
“Give me three seconds and I’ll your corset undone too.” Ronin growled and that was when Tony left, hurrying back to the stairs and up to his room, not stopping until the door closed behind him.   
  
He didn’t know what to think of Natalia and her two lovers, or what to think of her feeling guilty about tricking him, about the men so quickly acknowledging his pain and suggesting that he belonged here.   
  
Tony didn’t know what to think about any of it.   
  
But he crossed to his bags and unpacked a few pieces of clothing, tucking them away in the big set of drawers in the closet.   
  
Maybe he wouldn’t leave first thing in the morning. 

Maybe he’d stay just a few days. 

A few days would be alright. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the rest of Natalia’s family in this chapter– Ronin and Samuel, Wanda and Pietro and her terrifying mysterious brother, James Buchanan Barnes comes home for a visit.
> 
> Generic TW for slight mentions of past child abuse and descriptions of war.
> 
> (As always, I use google translate for the Russian and if it’s terrible, I fully apologize to anyone who speaks Russian and has to deal with any mangled translations.!)

The Sokovian revolution was a war fought in the shadows, a war of ambushes and raids, of spies and double agents, a war that tore families and friends apart as it stretched from one never ending decade through another.   
  
Occasionally things would calm down and an unofficial but mutually agreed upon ceasefire would exist for a few months, soldiers and peasants living together in a tightly wound unease, noblemen on either side of the differing politics sitting down for mostly civil meetings. 

But inevitably something would go wrong, tempers would flare and the unrest would boil over into actions and no matter how long the peace had lasted, the killing  _always_ started again, the murder, the chaos, the  _loss_ always started again. Another generation of young men and young soldiers were drawn into a battle they didn’t quite understand, choosing sides in a war that had been sparked long before they were born, and would continue on after they gave their lives to the  _futility_ of the fight. 

James Buchanan Barnes was a solder that had been fighting his entire life.

He fought in the schoolyard with the other boys, defending his mama’s reputation even though everyone knew the truth. Everyone  _knew_ James was named for the American ambassador that had visited one summer nearly thirty five years past, the one his mother had befriended when her marriage to the Lord Romanov was barely a year old and already practically over.

James was obviously-  _very_ obviously- the ambassador’s son, but anyone who dared say so got a punch in the stomach for their efforts.   
  
As James got older, the fighting got  _worse_ as he sought to protect his mouthy half sister Natalia from those who teased her for having bright red hair and when Natalia grew from child to young woman, the fighting got worse again when the boys started to make  _other_ comments about her. James bloodied more than a few faces and broke a few arms before the boys in their town learned to avoid the gorgeous redhead and her surly brother.    
  
When their ma passed, James took his grief and went across the sea to the continent. He told Natalia he left to try and find his real father, but he had such inclination, no care to connect with a man that didn’t even know he existed. 

No, James went to the continent because he didn’t want to be home with Natalia’s Da and the angry disapproval that seeped from the man, the constant resentment that erupted to shouting matches and sometimes into violence. Ivan never forgave his wife for her affair and he took his hostility out on the boy till the day James was big enough to be sure no one ever raised a hand towards him again. 

James left so he didn’t have to walk past his Ma’s empty bedroom anymore, so he didn’t have to think about the months it had taken the indomitable woman to lose against the sickness in her bones, the way she’d been so weak in the end, the way her hand had trembled in his as he held it over her heart. 

Now that Winnie was gone, there was no love left in the house, no softness to counter Ivan’s anger, and James took the chance to  _escape_ , packing his bags and leaving Sokovia and a tearful Natalia behind.  

He found a  _fight_ in the former British colonies, the North and South tearing themselves apart in a civil war that was bloodier than James could have ever imagined, worse than the Sokovian revolution had ever been. Family against family and brother against brother, states and politics and  _greed_ clashing and exploding and costing thousands and thousands of lives in the process. 

There James honed his skills, turning from a brawler into a soldier and growing from a soldier into a killer. He discovered an affinity for long range rifles, a finesse with knives that was almost terrifying, and somehow between the skirmishes and the marching and the senseless  _slaughter_ that turned fields into bloodbaths–

–James discovered brotherhood, discovered  _family_ that had nothing to do with bloodlines and loyalty among friends that didn’t waver in the face of the horrors they faced together. 

The war  _changed_ James, and when he returned to Russia five years later, It was he came home older and  _angrier_ , lethal with his fists and brutal with his blows, armed to the teeth and ready and willing to use anything he needed to accomplish his goal. He was accompanied by the men he called brothers, a former slave named Samuel and an archer named Ronin and the night the three men crossed the border to Sokovia was a night talked about for years after.   
  
A platoon of the Tsar’s men were in the roadside tavern, too many drinks and too much confidence making for an unfortunately loud conversation about the folly of Sokovian independence, about how the resistance was all but over as soon as they rounded up the last few  _cowards_ hiding in the shadows.   
  
James had listened in silence, then tossed back the rest of his drink and broke the thick glass over one soldier’s head. Samuel beat the life out of another while Ronin finished his drink in peace, then unhooked the crossbow from his back and put a bolt through one soldier’s heart and halfway into another’s chest.   
  
It had been the trios first kill for the Sokovian revolution, but far from their  _last_ and James stood on top of a table with his two American friends and announced, “The revolution is far from over, in fact it is just starting anew and we the rebels have claimed first blood. Tell the others the Winter Soldier has come back home to avenge their families.”   
  
 _The Winter Soldier_  
  
James had many names these days.   
  
He was  _Его Сиятельство Маркиз Romanov_ to those who cared about his title,  _His Serenity the Marquis_  since the Lord Romanov was dead and gone and his title had been passed down. To Natalia he was simply James or  _brother_ , though after all this time she was more apt to curse at him and throw a book at his head than she was to claim him as family.   
  
To Samuel and Ronin and the other friends he had made during his time in America, he was simply  _Bucky_ , a nickname pulled from the middle name Buchanan one night after a lot of drink and a lot of laughter, announced as his forever name by a big blonde with laughing blue eyes and a smile that haunted James in a secret part of his hardened heart.   
  
James had  many names these days, but to those those who stood in the way of the revolution, those who dared to go up against he and his fighters, James was known as the Winter Soldier– cold and calculating, murderous and merciless, a man with frost in his eyes and ice in his heart, one who lived in the shadows and only emerged to take a life.   
  
James was a soldier who fought the war with his own set of rules and for years there wasn’t a man in Sokovia that didn’t fear him or his wrath.  
  
It was understandable then, when a night watchman about jumped out of his skin when a match struck no more than two feet to his left, blazing into light in the dark and barely illuminating the features of the man who had crept up to his post unnoticed.   
  
“ _Bozhe moy_ , you scared me.” the watchman muttered, wanting to put a hand to his heart to calm himself down, but not wanting to appear weak in front of the Soldier. “They didn’t tell me you were coming round tonight. Last we heard you were towards the borders and maybe even towards Kiev.”   
  
“Hm.” James made a non-committal noise, taking a drag at his cigarette and letting a plume of smoke fill the air between them.   
  
“I heard about the ambush.” the watchman lowered his voice. “Story has it the soldiers knew Ronin and Samuel weren’t with you and that’s the only reason they dared–”   
  
“Those who listen to scary stories will find themselves visited by horrors.” the Soldier interrupted and the watchman’s mouth clicked shut. “And who ever told the Tsar’s men we were coming already has a bounty on his head. And I do mean on his  _head_.” James took another drag at the cigarette. “I have a hundred coins for whoever brings me the slags scalp, I don’t care about the rest of his body.”   
  
“…oh.” the watchman swallowed hard. “The casualties were high, then?”  
  
“My highest.” James confirmed bitterly. “But there’s no use in talking about the dead. Tell me news of my home, has Rumlow reported in yet?”   
  
“Yes sir.” A nervous sort of nod and James narrowed pale eyes in his direction. “That is to say, we received a communique from Rumlow saying that all is well at the manor estate. But um–”   
  
“But?”   
  
“But the Lady Romanova, your sister– well, the stories say she has– it would seem she has–”   
  
“ _Finish a sentence_!” the Soldier thundered and the watchman stumbled over the rest of words to blurt–  
  
“The Lady Romanova has taken another husband!”   
  
Silence in the dark, thick and heavy and ominous and the watchman had never been so aware of the words ’ _shooting the messenger_ ’ before in his life.   
  
“You’re sure?” James finally asked. “And think carefully before you answer, because I will not ask again.”   
  
“I–I’m sure.” The guard wet his lips anxiously. They might be brothers in arms as far as the  _revolyutsiya_ was concerned, but every man in camp knew to avoid making James angry, that the man known as the Winter Soldier would kill simply to make a point. He  _had_ killed simply to make a point, to shut someone up that was annoying him, or just to put an end to a conversation he didn’t want to have. James was not a man to trifle with and the watchman had  _not_ wanted to be the one to deliver this particular bit of news.   
  
“The Lady Romanova left by train to Italy and returned with a husband.“ He said quickly, seeing as how he was too far into the story to retreat now. "She was only gone ten days, but by the time word reached our camp she had gone and returned and as of Rumlow’s last message, she has been home at the manor in Sokovia for almost a week now.”   
  
“Natalia left the country without me knowing?” the Soldier’s voice went very quiet and very dangerous. “How did this happen, exactly? Rumlow was on strict orders to not let her out of Sokovia."   
  
“I– I don’t know? I just heard she left and was back again before word reached us that she was gone. That’s all I know, I swear.”   
  
The Soldier’s curse was foul enough to make the watchman back up a few steps. “Get me a horse.”   
  
“…sir?”   
  
“A horse.” He repeated. “It would seem a trip home is long over due. Get me a horse  _now_.”   
  
*****************  
  
Tony had had every intention of leaving Sokovia, he honestly did. He wanted to go home and he wanted to see his parents and he wanted to be surrounded by his things and finish healing his heart among familiar belongings.

And yet, he’d been at the manor house for almost two weeks now, and had no inclination to leave.

Every sensible thought told Tony to pack up and  _go_ , to get away from the secrets that filled the halls and the indecipherable looks and murmured conversations taking place during the meals. It would have been practical and smart to sent a post to his Mama and tell her he would be returning, to perhaps pen a note to his professor and ask about returning to a class at the university. 

But something entirely  _un_ sensible and perhaps even a little lonely told Tony to  _stay_.

It was nice after all, to wake up and know he had someone to take breakfast with. Natalia was always downstairs before he was, greeting him with a still hesitant smile and a prepared cup of coffee, offering him any of the food that was ready for the morning meal.

Most mornings Samuel and Ronin were there as well, and even though the first few meetings had been awkward, Samuel had eventually relaxed enough to at least nod in Tony’s direction and offer polite conversation. Ronin never said a word to Tony, but he had stopped glaring distrustfully and Tony considered that a step in the right direction. 

The twins were the other full time residents of the manor house, and Tony had met them just a few days prior. He had been struck nearly speechless by Wanda’s beauty and found himself completely unprepared for Pietro’s particular brand of morbid humour and despite the twins being entirely different physically and personality wise, Tony found himself thoroughly charmed and almost unbearably  _curious_. 

“We are Ronin’s children.” Wanda explained as she sipped at her tea one morning, dressed in an outfit more leather than cloth, her delicate features highlighted by brilliant red hair and hands covered in ever present elbow length gloves. “He saved my brother and I years ago, when the revolution sparked a fight and burned our village down. He brought us here to Talia and this has been our home ever since.”  
  
“Your home was destroyed in an uprising.” Tony’s eyes flickered in sympathy. "And your parents–”   
  
“Gone.” Wanda finished flatly. “And we grieved, of course we did, but growing up in this country…” one shoulder lifted and fell in a half hearted shrug. “…loss and grief is a certainty not a possibility, an eventuality even for children and we were luckier than most. We had our parents for much longer than others."   
  
“I can’t imagine losing my parents.” Tony muttered, reaching for one of the scones on the platter. “I don’t know what I’d do with out them.”   
  
“Apparently run away to Russia with a temptress, hm?” Wanda raised a knowing eyebrow and Tony blinked at her a few times. “Talia has not told us everything about your story, Antonio, but she told us enough to prove you belong here.”   
  
“I  _belong_ here?” Tony repeated. “And what does that mean exactly?”  
  
“It means Talia has an unnerving habit of finding the people that need refuge.” Pietro spoke up from the easy chair he was sprawled across, flipping the pages of a book without really reading. “But it’s not your fault, you know. She probably would have brought you home whether you wanted to be here or not. Talia’s pretty impossible to refuse.”   
  
“I suppose I was looking for refuge of some sort.” Tony allowed, eyeing the young man curiously, the shock of shaggy blonde hair and the eyes that almost looked silver in the sunlight. “Though this wasn’t quite what I was expecting.”  
  
“Very rarely does what we  _need_ line up perfectly with what we  _want_ and almost never does it line up with what we expect.” Wanda answers primly. “Wouldn’t you say so, brother?”  
  
“I’d say you should stop reading those books of wise sayings and practice your swordsmanship or Ronin will never let you out of the manor to help the fight.” Pietro countered. “You may sound important but you’re all but worthless on the field.”   
  
“I’m better with a sword than you are.” Wanda sniffed and when Pietro made an outraged sort of noise, she flipped aside the skirt of her morning dress to show an astonishing amount of leg and the blade strapped to her thigh. “Are you as prepared as I, brother?”  
  
“It’s  _breakfast_!” Pietro said loudly. “I shouldn’t have to carry a sword!”  
  
“And that is why Ronin insists you stay home, my love.” Natalia swept through the kitchen in her dressing robe, bending to kiss both twins on the cheek. “That and because  _I_  refuse to let this revolution take another member of my family. Otherwise I’m sure he and Samuel would have you on one of the stallions laying traps and ambushes right alongside them.”  
  
“Are you giving away our secrets, Talia?” Samuel still had grime on his knuckles from an early morning spar as he crossed the room to kiss her good morning. “Telling Antonio about our traps and ambushes?”   
  
“I’d never give secrets away, Samuel.” Natalia said reproachfully, and the big man folded her into a careful hug, keeping his split knuckles away from her robe. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”   
  
“You shouldn’t ask those questions.” Ronin interrupted and Natalia turned to him with a smile, ignoring his bloody lip to press their mouths together. “You know damn well you won’t like the answer.”   
  
“Ronin.” Pietro waited until he and Natalia had parted before circling round to face Ronin, his hands moving just as fast as his mouth as he said, “I want to go train with you today.”  
  
Ronin didn’t answer, only inclined his head towards the door and Pietro grinned and took off for his rooms to get dressed.   
  
“Um–” Tony cocked his head in question over the signing and Wanda explained, “Pietro and my accent is so strong that Ronin cannot hardly understand us, even if we are speaking his American English. Since we pronounce words differently than Natalia, he has a hard time reading our lips as well. It’s probably the same with you, you know. He doesn’t speak to you because he cannot understand your accent and as you form the words, he can’t read your lips.”  
  
“Sorry?” Tony narrowed his eyes. “He has a hard time reading my lips? Why is he reading my lips?"   
  
“His injury?” Wanda made a motion down the side of her face and sent him a disbelieving look. “Ronin is entirely deaf on that side. Don’t tell me you’ve lived here for weeks now and didn’t know? How could you not know that?"   
  
“I–” Tony shook his head. “I’ve seen him listen when Natalia talks, I’ve seen him respond to conversation–”   
  
“Talia is  _always_ directly in front of him, or speaking to his left side, as is Samuel and the other soldiers.” Wanda informed him. “Talia’s accent isn’t as heavy as ours due to her spy work, so he can usually understand her but Pietro and I have learned to sign so we can speak with him as needed.”  
  
“Natalia and he are in love even though he can’t always understand what she is saying? How is that possible?” Tony asked dubiously. “And for that matter, how is he an effective soldier if he can’t hear?”  
  
Wanda narrowed her eyes at him for a long moment. “Antonio, love is a language that requires no translation. You do not need a mouth to speak it, nor ears to hear it. Why would Ronin’s injury have any bearing on their relationship?”   
  
“Well I–”   
  
“And he was an elite soldier before his injury.” She continued. “If anything, he is  _more_ dangerous now, especially with Samuel at his side.”  
  
“Um–”   
  
“It makes me sad for you that you’ve never found a love that crosses borders and languages and withstands life changes.” Wanda finished her tea and set her cup aside, either not noticing or not  _caring_ that Tony was staring at her in a stunned sort of horror. “Natalia told me you loved and lost in Italy, but I don’t believe it was love at all, if you cannot understand a relationship that has trials for the partners to overcome together.”   
  
“I loved him.” Tony stammered a few times. “I– I did. It was love. I loved him.“  
  
“Did you?” Wanda took Tony’s empty cup to the wash tub. “Or did you know it wasn’t love at all, and that’s why you ran away?”   
  
Tony didn’t know what to say to the young woman then and Wanda didn’t wait for him to reply, sweeping out of the room and taking Natalia along with her to get dressed for the day and then it was only Tony left by himself to stare out the window and think about what she had said.   
  
He’d loved Ty, right? That’s why the betrayal had hurt so much, why he’d been so angry. There was a thin line between love and hate and Tony had crossed it so quickly, it  _had_ to have been love between them, right?  
  
 _Right_?   
  
Tony pushed the thought away because he wasn’t ready to think he’d nearly ruined his life for  _lust_ and a love that wouldn’t have lasted.   
  
He wasn’t ready to think about that at all.   
  


“Antonio–” Sam nearly ran into Tony as he came back into the room. “Natalia said that you–”   
  
“It’s just Tony.” He interrupted and Sam paused, looking confused. “It’s just Tony. Natalia and the twins call me Antonio, but even back home, everyone called me Tony. My– my friends and acquaintances call me Tony.”  
  
“Tony, then.” Sam started again with a half smile. “Natalia said that you might want to see how we train. Her exact words were ‘he broods too much, my love. Do something with him’, so do you want to come along? Ronin is taking Pietro out on the horses, do you ride?“   
  
Tony was more than a little surprised by the offer, but nodded anyway. “I don’t have anything else to do today. And um– I do ride. Thank you."   
  
“Come on then.” Samuel motioned for him to follow out the back doors and towards the small stables. "We should still be able to catch them if we hurry."   
  
“Tell me, Samuel.” Tony had to jog to keep up with the other man’s strides. “How does an American end up in Sokovia fighting a revolution and in love with a woman like Natalia?”   
  
“Her brother Bucky.” Sam answered and when Tony frowned, he amended, “ _James_. Everyone back home calls him Bucky, but I suppose here he is James. He came to America looking for his pa, ended up fighting a war that wasn’t his. Lucky for me and Ronin and the rest of the boys, he wanted to fight for our side.”   
  
“Ronin is American too?”   
  
“Yep.” Samuel reached over to pet the nose of one of the geldings when it nickered at him. “He used to have another name, but he was Ronin by the time I met him. Spoke with a weird accent back then, like he picked up a piece of culture every where he’d been in his life and now that we’re here in Russia, it’s changed again.”  
  
“Is it– since he’s deaf?” Tony made a motion over his ear. “Has that affected his speech?”   
  
“Probably.” Samuel shrugged. “But he’s been hurt like that for as long as I’ve known him, so I couldn’t say for sure.” 

“So Natalia’s brother fought with you, and both of you just came back to Russia with him?”   
  
“Tony.” Samuel shook his head. “I don’t know what it’s like in Italy for people who look like me, but back home it wasn’t real good. Wasn’t real good for people like Ronin either, with his family and history and moving around and all that. But Bucky didn’t care about any of it. He didn’t care that Ronin’s people were looked down on and he made sure I never felt a whip on my back again so the two of us– yeah. We followed him to Sokovia. We’ll follow him anywhere, even to hell and back.”

“Some days–” he looked around the yard, towards the mountains in the distance and sighed. “–some days that’s exactly what it feels like.”   
  
***************  
  
“Did you enjoy your time with Samuel and the others?” Natalia barely looked up from her embroidery when Tony came down to the parlor looking for his book that night. “I think this is the most you’ve been out of your room since we arrived, it must have been a busy day."   
  
“It was a busy day, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.” Tony turned the book over a few times as he thought about what he wanted to say next. “Natalia, are you happy living your life like this?”   
  
“Elaborate.” Natalia cut her thread and tied it off before reaching for another color. 

“Here, like this.” Tony motioned around them. “Playing mother to the twins even though they are grown, spending your day reading and your nights sewing? This doesn’t seem like something a woman like you would want.”   
  
“A woman like me. You mean because I am a spy.” Natalia went back to her project. “Because when we met, I seemed fully at ease in that ridiculous dress and mask and because I faced down the soldiers without wavering.”   
  
Tony was quiet and she sent him a sharp look. “ _Or_ do you mean because I am a woman who has killed many men and lied to dozens more to get what I want? Is  _that_ what you mean?”   
  
Tony’s jaw clenched and Natalia  _tsked_ at him. “Antonio, this is  _all_ I ever wanted with my life. To come home to loved ones and have a quiet dinner. To spend my evenings doing frivolous tasks like embroidery. To linger over coffee before taking my time getting dressed for the day. This was a life I never thought I’d have.”

“Elaborate.” Tony threw Natalia’s own word back at her and she pursed her lips in disapproval over the strident tone but didn’t argue. 

"I was raised a spy.” she clarified, as if Tony hadn’t already heard this part of her story. “I lived my formative years training to be a femme fatale, to use my body and my beauty as a tool to further the  _cause_. All I wanted was to be normal, to be able to play and grow and love like every other girl out there and I never got the chance. The few times I thought I had a chance to be normal, it was false. Taken away before I was able to enjoy it. Eventually I started to think this sort of thing didn’t exist at all, that I was doomed to live the life my father had set out before me.” 

“…and now?”   
  
“And now I get to have my drink by the fire and embroider the hem of these gloves for Wanda.” Natalia held up her sewing so Tony could see it. “In a few minutes, both my loves will come through that door and take me to bed and in the morning, I’ll have breakfast with my family. I might take a walk when it warms up, perhaps I’ll dig about in the garden for a while and see if I can coax a few roses to bloom. I might take my horse out for a run or practice archery with Ronin or spend some time with Samuel cleaning out the armory. It doesn’t matter  _what_ I do, because I’m happy it’s  _real_.”   
  
Natalia’s smile was sad when she added, “Sometimes, it’s a relief to simply  _exist_ , Antonio. It’s a relief to be allowed to  _be_.”  
  
“Hm.”   
  
“And you?” Natalia pressed when Tony didn’t answer. “Are you finding it a relief to simply  _exist_ after the trouble in Brescia? Or is there something about that life you miss?”  
  
“Good night, Lady Romanova.” was all Tony said and disappeared back upstairs.   
  
Natalia watched him go, feeling the ever present twinge of  _guilt_ over how she had tricked him into this life. These last few days the guilt had been accompanied by a spark of hope though, now that Antonio had started reaching out to the twins and getting drawn into conversation with Samuel.

A brief glance into his rooms had shown Natalia that he had unpacked his bags entirely and only once in the two weeks since arriving had Antonio mentioned wanting to return to Italy, saying it in passing over breakfast that very first morning, and never saying it again. 

There was hope that Natalia hadn’t completely ruined things and that made her smile a little, so she went back to her embroidery, humming quietly as she finished up her drink and glanced up at the clock to check the time, anxious for her loves to come in from the night patrol and come to bed.   
  
A few hurried, stolen moments and the occasional lingering kiss was all she and the man had managed to have together since she’d come home with Antonio and this morning Ronin had been nearly  _desperate_ as he held her close, his kisses hungry and sharp and fingers digging into her waist to keep her tight against his body.   
  
“ _Ronin_ …” She’d moaned and he’d only let go when Sam had reached for her too, lifting Natalia off her toes to crush their mouths together for a long minute and whisper something ragged about  _needing_ …  
  
Natalia shifted on her chair with another little smile, clenching her thighs together and wetting her lips as she thought about her men, losing count of her stitches entirely imagining exactly how the night would go. How long had it been since they’d both been inside her? Since Ronin had used his tongue to take her apart and since Samuel had—  
  
 _A noise_.  
  
Natalia froze, abruptly yanked from her day dream by a sudden noise that was too soft to be accidental, too loud to be ignored. It wasn’t the noise of the house settling or shifting in the wind, it wasn’t the  _scritch_ of branches against the window, not even the skitter that was the occasional mouse searching for crumbs in the pantry.   
  
It was the noise of a person trying to be quiet and yet making sure Natalia was well aware of their presence and as she retrieved both her pistol from the basket of threads and the knife from her boot, Natalia’s mind cycled quickly through  _who_ could have broken into her house unseen and now was creeping about her kitchen.   
  
In nothing more than slippered feet, her breath carefully measured and movements precise, Natalia stepped towards the kitchen, hugging the wall so she could see around the corner before anyone could see her, peering through the shadows to see–  
  
A match, flaring bright in the dark and then the cherry red glow of a cigarette.   
  
“Natalia.” A voice, deep and familiar. “Are you still playing spy in stockinged feet?”   
  
“That depends.” Natalia tucked her pistol into her belt and resheathed her knife, folding her arms to lean against the door jam as if her heart weren’t pounding in her chest. “Are you still sneaking through the corners of your own home?”  
  
“This is not my home.” A lantern lit and Natalie blinked at the sudden brightness, head tilting as she studied the man sitting in front of her. “I’ve been hearing things about you, little sister. Rumours and whispers and I am not happy about them.”  
  
“You can hardly believe the rumours you hear about me,  _brother_.” She said casually, eyes sharp as James stood to his feet, looming over her. “What did Da always say?”   
  
“To never believe rumours about our family, because the truth is so much worse.” James said flatly and Natalia bared her teeth in a smile. “You left Russia without my permission, you left  _Sokovia_  without my permission.“   
  
“Oh, I don’t need your permission to go anywhere, James.” She made a show of studying her finger nails. “Not to the gardens, not to the city, not to a different country but I suppose you’ve forgotten that, seeing as how this is the first time I’ve seen you in years. How did you find out about my little journey anyhow?”   
  
“You are naive to think I don’t have people watching you.” James sounded frustrated already, and Natalia shouldn’t have been surprised. They fought every time they talked, which was probably why they never talked anymore.   
  
“You have Rumlow watching me.” Natalia stated and muttered a curse when James only nodded. “Well I suppose him following me about because he’s spying for you is better than him following me about to try and get under my skirts. You could have just asked me, you know. Sent a letter or message or maybe even come home for once.“   
  
“This is not my home.” James repeated, angrier now. “Rumlow says you brought a husband back. What in the hell are you thinking, Talia? Was the one husband not enough? You had to bring a second about to further the tales and whispers? Do you know what they call you now?" 

"The Black Widow.” Natalia’s voice rose when his did. “A nickname I’d have no use for if you came around to protect like you are supposed to! That’s why I married again, don’t you know? I needed another man to protect the house since it’s only ever myself and the twins here!" 

James snorted, “ _Proklyat'ye_ Talia. That is bullshit and you know it. You don’t need a man to protect yourself  _or_ the twins. Rumlow told me how you are training Wanda to be just as lethal as you are, and that Pietro is nearly the marksman Ronin is. Why would you bring a stranger into our lives? Do you realize how this could disrupt our plans? Tell me the truth!"   
  
“I don’t owe you the truth.” Natalia said coolly. “And if you were  _here_ instead of off playing skirmish with the other boys, you’d know exactly how much danger I’ve been in and why my foray to Italy was necessary.”   
  
“Well I’m here  _now_.” James said stubbornly. “And you will tell me  _now_ , or I will drag your new husband out of your bed and ask him myself.” Natalia lifted her chin defiantly, and James squinted at her. “He doesn’t know, does he?  _Bozhe_ , Talia. Did you trick a man into marriage and not tell him why you needed him? Was he so blinded by your charms and the way you wear your dresses that he followed you without question?  
  
“James!” Always irritated when her brother threw her  _tactics_ in her face, Natalia followed James out of the kitchen, snatching at his sleeve to slow him down. "Don’t you dare wake him!”

“Does he have any idea what you did to the last man who had the nerve to call you  _wife_?” James shook her off easily, heading for the stairs. “Is having my two best soldiers fawning over you not enough? You needed someone naive and controllable as well?! Tell me, how does he feel about having to share you with two other men, or have you shut him from your bed?"   
  
“Damn it!” Natalia crashed a vase off a pedestal and cursed out loud. “You will not bring him into this before you and I have had our say. You’re being ridiculous and cruel for no reason except you are angry I disobeyed you!"   
  
“The hell I am!” James spat, whirling around and pointing a finger at her. “I have been working for  _years_ for this, Natalia. For the revolution, for our safety, for  _your_ safety. You could ruin everything bringing some unknown man into it!  Are you trying to prove a point? Trying to get my attention? Because it worked! What were you thinking being so reckless and  _stupid_?" 

“Stop yelling at me for a single moment and I’ll tell you!” Natalia shouted back. “I haven’t heard from you in months, haven’t seen you in years and the first thing you do is walk in and start screaming at me!”  
  
“If you had listened for once in your life and just stayed put, I wouldn’t have to be here at all!” James yelled. “I have a  _mission_ , Natalia! Men’s lives are on the line and I had to leave it all to come baby sit my petulant,  _bratty_ little–”   
  
“You will watch your tone around the lady.” A new voice interrupted their fight, a smooth Italian accent curving the words lyrical but  _dangerous_. “Or you and I will have a disagreement of our own right here on the stairs. If that happens, I promise you  _sir_ , you will not come out of the moment fully intact."   
  
“Antonio.” Natalia’s heart soared at the sudden appearance of Tony, quietly loving that he was coming to her rescue yet again. “Antonio,  _izvineniya_ , go back to bed, this is nothing to worry about. A disagreement with my brother no worse than several others I’ve had."   
  
“Yes, Antonio, go back to bed.” James’s gaze was  _furious_ as he dragged it from Natalia and towards the stairs. “No matter that I have several things I’d like to say to you. It seems as if what Natalia says is law whether its correct or not so why don’t you just–” 

He stopped mid sentence, mid word in fact, his jaw falling open when he actually saw Tony. "Oh. I– _Bozhe moy–_ I _–"_

Tony wore nothing more than linen sleep pants, the waist low about his hips and too thin to disguise much of  _anything_ , a long barreled pistol held easily in one hand, his finger ready on the trigger. His hair was a disaster, rumpled and curly around his ears and even though he looked sleepy, Tony’s dark eyes glittered with anger and as they shifted towards Natalia–  _protectiveness_.

 _He was gorgeous._    
  
“What seems to be the problem here?” Tony asked slowly, pointedly, haughty as only a noble could be, glancing at Natalia for a split second before shifting back to James, the anger in his eyes fading to something…  _warmer_ … the longer James held his gaze. “Speak quickly, because you woke me up and I am not happy about it.”   
  
Natalia looked between them curiously, from the growing interest in Tony’s expression to the way James was staring with something akin to awe, seemingly at a loss for words and unable to look away.   
  
 _My oh my_.   
  
“This is my husband Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark,  _nobile dei marchesi di Brescia.”_  Natalia broke the sudden silence to make introductions, sweeping a hand towards Tony. “And Antonio, darling. This is James Buchanan Barnes, His Serenity the Marquis of the house Romanov…and my older brother.”   
  
“Your brother.” Tony’s aggressive stance eased, his finger leaving the trigger and eyes widening a little as they swept over James, the arrogance easing from his voice. “My apologies, I assumed it was an intruder.”   
  
“Not quite an intruder, since I lived most of my life here.” James had yet to look away from Tony, making no attempt to disguise his interest as he looked Tony over  _again_. “Natalia, this is your  _husband_?”   
  
“So the story goes.” Tony wasn’t sure if he was flattered or intimidated by James’s blatant perusal and Natalia pressed her fingers to her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh at either of them. “You’ll forgive the weaponry, I was under the impression that you hadn’t been home for years and had no reason to think you’d be home  _tonight_.”   
  
“This isn’t my home.” The words were immediate, automatic and Tony saw the way Natalia cringed from the corner of his eye. “But I will be spending time here again, yes. Apparently many things have changed that I need to be… _aware_ of.”   
  
“A pleasure then.” Tony made at least an attempt to be appropriate, giving a short bow in light of meeting another member of nobility. “Until tomorrow.”   
  
“Until tomorrow.” James repeated, and his voice only had a fraction of his earlier ire when he told Natalia, “You and I  _will_ finish this discussion in the morning.”   
  
“Oh, I look forward to it, brother.” She retorted and with one last, lingering look towards Tony, James turned on his heel and strode away.   
  
Once the huge manor door had slammed shut, Tony frowned, “I thought you weren’t expecting him back. Why is he here?”   
  
“I think that’s rather obvious.” Natalia’s lips curled in a smirk. “He came all the way here to meet  _you_ , Antonio. News of our marriage has spread and dear old brother decided to come and see if it were true.”    
  
“He seemed more interested in yelling at you.” He answered slowly. “Do you two always fight like that?"   
  
“Always.” She confirmed. “And as grateful as I am for you coming to my rescue, you don’t have worry Antonio. This argument is nothing compared to others we’ve had and even though James  _sounds_ scary, I was doing my own share of yelling. He will calm down tonight and we will have a civil conversation in the morning. This happens every time we go too long without seeing each other.”

Natalia waited a beat and added, “By the way, I think he approves of you, darling.”   
  
“Why do you say that?”   
  
“I don’t think I’ve seen my brother stare so hungrily at anything that wasn’t cake.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia and James work out some family/sibling arguments and James gets to see more of Tony in his brilliant element.
> 
> (mandatory apology about having to use Google Translate for the Russian and most likely butchering the language)

Natalia raised her eyebrows when James stumbled in to the kitchen early the next morning, bleary eyed and messy haired, scratching at his jaw and fumbling towards the coffee.  
  
“To your left, brother.” She said, barely covering a smirk when James ran right into an open cupboard and let loose a furious streak of curses. “No no,  _tupitsa_. Your  _other_ left.”  
  
“It used to be over here.” James scowled and poured himself a cup. “Why did it move?”  
  
“It  _moved_ because both Samuel and Ronin stand at my side in the morning and the old spot didn’t have enough room for the three of us.” Natalia turned a page in her book and added, “It  _moved_ because you haven’t been back here in years to bitch about it.”  
  
James drained almost all of his coffee in one go, never taking his eyes off the redhead at the table until he finished enough to say, “You’re angry with me.”  
  
“I don’t know if I’m quite  _angry_ , but I’ve had fonder feelings for snakes recently.” Natalia turned another page. “Have you had enough sleep that we may talk like adults or are you still going to pout about like a petulant little–”  
  
“That’s  _enough_.” His voice dropped into a dangerous note and Natalia’s mouth clicked shut, even as her eyes flashed angrily. “You will tell me why you went to Italy. From the beginning, leave nothing out. I want every detail.“ 

“I am not one of your soldiers, James. I don’t have to report to you.” Talia stood to her feet, her morning gown swishing about her feet. “Go bother Ronin or Samuel or that idiot Rumlow, I’m sure they have something to tell you, because I certainly don’t.”  
  
“Natalia.” James circled her little wrist with his palm, held her fast when she tried to pull away and Natalia even though looked up ready to snap at him, she stopped in surprise at the  _pain_ swimming in his pale blue eyes. “Why did you go to Italy? I thought you were here safe at home–”  
  
“–Oh, but I thought this  _wasn’t_ your home.”  
  
“It’s not my home, but it’s  _yours_!” James’s voice rose. “And you’re safe here! You’re finally safe here! I don’t have to worry about you so long as you are  _home_ and then you go off and–”  
  
He shut up when the kitchen door opened again, Wanda and Pietro stopping awkwardly when they felt the tension in the room.  
  
“Talia?” Pietro asked warily and while Wanda didn’t say anything, she crossed to stand right next to Natalia, extricating her wrist from James’s grasp and pulling her back a few steps.  
  
“You remember the twins.” Natalia was stunned by the show of emotion from her usually stoic brother but didn’t comment on it, choosing instead to pour first Wanda and then Pietro their morning coffee. “My loves, of course you remember my brother James.”  
  
“We know who you are.” Pietro still looked unsure, but Wanda stepped right into Bucky’s space and gave him a quick hug, murmuring, “Welcome home,  _sem'ya_. It has been a long time.”  
  
James didn’t so much as  _push_ Wanda away as he stepped away himself, putting several feet between he and the girl before inclining his head in a brusque nod towards Pietro.

Natalia tapped at her bottom lip, curious over James’s abruptness with the children, but she didn’t comment. “Go find Ronin and Samuel.” She handed the twins their coffee and shooed them towards the door. “James and I have much to discuss and you’re in the way right now. Go on.”

Wanda left immediately, clutching her coffee close as she went, but Pietro sent one last, searching look towards James and walked backwards from the kitchen so he could watch as long as possible.  
  
“They are protective over you.” James said once they were gone and Natalia nodded. “See? I knew I didn’t have to worry about you here, so why would you leave?”  
  
“You’ve never worried about me a day in my life.” Natalia went back to the table, folding her arms and settling the soldier with a  _look_. “Unless you thought I was going to ruin your oh so  _carefully_ laid plans by showing up unexpectedly or–”  
  
“Why did you go to Italy, Natalia?”  
  
“Why did you push Wanda away when she tried to hug you?” Natalia flung back and when James muttered a curse, she repeated it even louder. “Since when does my brother shy away from the attention of a beautiful woman?’   
  
“She’s a  _child_.” James ground out, and quieter– “And I am more used to people running and screaming, not calling me family and embracing me.”  
  
“Ah. The Winter Soldier lives a cold life.“ Natalia scoffed. "Imagine that.”  
  
“ _Tell me why you went to Italy_!”  
  
“I had no choice.” She said simply, lifting her shoulder in a half hearted shrug. “When Da took me across the border to smuggle things, we told the agents we had family in Italy and we were going to visit them. After he was convicted and hanged for treason, the story started to unravel.’  
  
James’s expression didn’t change in the slightest at the mention of Lord Romanov’s death and even though a piece of Natalia hated that her brother could be so cold towards the man who raised them, another piece of her understood James’s sentiment perfectly.

It wasn’t like  _she’d_ mourned the day he was executed either.  
  
“After my husband passed, the soldiers attention turned to me and I had to put some legitimacy to our many years of lies.” Talia shrugged again. “I snuck aboard a train to Italy and planned to simply snag myself some worthless, easy to manage Italian boy to bring back across the border. I thought to pay him for his silence and to  _encourage_ him to agree to my story. I assumed I would have weeks,  _months_ even to bring him around to the truth and instead I ended up with–”  
  
She glanced up at the ceiling, towards the rooms above their heads. “Well, I ended up with Antonio. And a good thing too. The soldiers nearly had me in Kiev and it was only his quick thinking that saved me.”  
  
“And how did you thank him?” James put his cup away and folded his arms. “Hm? What did you do to guarantee his silence of our business? To ensure that he wouldn’t turn the  _Black Widow_ –” Natalia grimaced at the nickname. “–over to the authorities? What reassurance do you have that this nobleman won’t turn tail and run back to beautiful Italia and let all of our secrets out along the way?”

“I– I don’t have any assurance.” Natalia admitted. “I’ve done nothing to earn his trust and every morning I wonder if this will be the day he leaves.”  
  
“And then what?” James was angry again. “ _Then_ what will you do? If he leaves, you have no alibi! Not even a bit of truth to all the lies you and your father told. Those soldiers could walk in here and take you away and there isn’t anything I could do anything about it!”  
  
“Brother if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were getting emotional.” Natalia met James’s eyes steadily. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“I stayed away to keep you safe.” James planted both of his hands on the table, leaning over Natalia, tall and imposing and furious. “Do you understand that? I stayed away because if anyone knew the Winter Soldier had a place to call home,  _this_ would be where they would bring the fight.”

“You stayed away because Mama died here and you’ve hated this house ever since.” She replied calmly and James practically growled, “I stayed away because I never wanted my sister to have to do what I do!”

“Yes well while  _you_ were staying away, Da dragged  _me_ right into it!” She snapped. “And then to further punish me for daring to join our sordid little family business, you kept yourself away for  _years_!

“It wasn’t punishment! It was protection!”

“Ah yes.” Natalia’s lip curled bitterly. “Because I was never safer than when I was married off to some monster while Da runs around playing spy and brother is off playing soldier.”

James’s eyes closed briefly at the mention of the man who had been Natalia’s first husband. “If I’d known he was hurting you—“

“But you didn’t, because you weren’t here.” She finished and shook her head when he tried to answer, taking the subject back to something less intense. “Antonio was an attempt at a cover story that still may very well backfire on me, but I think the odds of that happening are far less if you stay here at the house for a while.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“James.” Natalia’s voice was soft now. “Perhaps you ask my dear husband exactly why he said  _yes_ to leaving his little world and fleeing to Russia with me, hm? His answer might surprise you.”

“I don’t see why that would matter at all.”

“And who knows?” Natalia continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “He might even help you remember what it feels like to be held, rather than scorned. He’s beautiful, isn’t he? I saw you staring last night and more importantly–” she smiled, just barely. “–I saw  _him_ staring too.”

James was silent for a moment, his jaw working as he thought through Natalia’s words. “He is married to  _you_.” he finally said. “He is your  _husband_ , Talia.”

“Yes by law he is my spouse,  but he has spent the last several weeks sleeping across the hall and getting to know the men I love.” Natalia pointed out. “And I hate to repeat myself as much as you do, but again– I saw him staring.”

“Playing matchmaker isn’t a good look on you, Talia.” James ground out. “Mind your business.”

“I disagree.” she said loftily. “I think it’s an excellent look on me, and if you decide to stay for more than a few days, I think you’ll change your mind.”

“ _Hmph_.” The big soldier made a noncommittal noise. “We’ll see.”  
  
******************  
Tony made it a full two days without even catching sight of Natalia’s mysterious half brother, so he could be forgiven for not expecting to  _literally_ run into the man as he left his bedroom one morning.  
  
“Oh!” Tony was average height and of an average build but he still bounced right off a rock solid chest and would have ended up sprawled across the floor had James not reached out and caught him at the last second. “Oh um– thank you?”

“You should watch where you’re going.” James said flatly, holding onto Tony’s arm tightly to keep him steady. “And what exactly are you doing in my room?”  
  
“ _Your_ room?” Tony was… well he was unsettingly distracted by the sight and feel of Bucky’s hand nearly circling his entire forearm– Christ, were his hands  _really_ that big?– and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and who he was talking to.  
  
“Your room.” Tony found his voice again when James finally let him go, tipped his chin up and met James’s eyes full on when he said, “Natalia told me I could stay here seeing as how she had no reason to think you’d be home to use it. So as of now? I think it’s  _my_ room.”  
  
James’s jaw clenched and Tony had only a split second to realize he might have made a mistake before the big soldier simply stepped around him and through the door.  
  
Tony didn’t have much a choice other than to follow, watching with more than a small dose of curiosity as James went directly to the desk on the far wall and shoved it aside, kicking away the rug and running his hands over the wall until one of the stones shifted beneath his palm and with a tug at the corners, came free altogether.  
  
There was a low rumble, the wall shuddered and then an entire  _section_ of it moved forward and to the side to reveal a corridor both wide enough and tall enough to allow a full grown man inside.  
  
The Stark Manor in Brescia had doors in the wall too, secret compartments to hide jewels and guns. There were tunnels from the kitchen to the stables in case of a siege, hidden staircases from the bedrooms to the study– every noble family had carefully planned escape routes and Tony wasn’t altogether surprised that a family of spies had secrets in their walls, but one just a few feet from where he slept every night?  
  
 _Fascinating_.  
  
Tony must have made an impressed noise or at least an  _interested_ noise because James glanced back over his shoulder with the slightest hint of a smirk curving his lips before ducking into the doorway and retrieving two rifle cases and a canister of bullets.  
  
James tossed both cases on the bed along with the ammunition, then went back to the wall to get several pistols as well as a double barreled flintlock shotgun. “Can you shoot?” he asked and when Tony didn’t answer, he looked up and said, “I don’t like to repeat myself. Can you shoot?”  
  
“…yes.” Tony’s eyes were trained solely on the set of dueling pistols lying closest to the pillows, too busy admiring the scrolling on the grips and the shine of the barre to hear the censure in James’s tone. “Yes, I can shoot.”  
  
“Come on then.” James tossed him one of the rifles and and Tony had to scramble to catch it. “I don’t know how you usually spend your days, but from now on you will need to be earning your keep.”  
  
“Earning my keep?” Tony held the rifle carefully as he followed James from the room. “And what does that mean?”  
  
“It means I expect you to do more than swan about reading poetry and taking your tea in the gardens.” James’s voice was blank, his eyes cold as he looked Tony over. “Even Wanda can shoot a weapon, so you will too.”  
  
“I–”  
  
“I’m not happy my sister brought you here.” James cut Tony off with a wave of his hand. “I’m fuckin’ furious about it, in fact. But since you  _are_ here, you’re going to be useful. Prove to me you can offer at least some sort of protection for Talia and her home and maybe I’ll let you stay.”  
  
Anger welled in Tony, hot and sharp and  _bitter_ at being so obviously measured by this soldier and found wanting, and the anger made him careless. “For a man so adamant that this isn’t your home, you are quick to lay down the rules, aren’t you?”  
  
“And for a man who had every intention of leaving, you sure have made yourself comfortable, haven’t you?” James inclined his head towards the bedroom and Tony felt a flush rising in his cheeks. “This is not Italy, and you are not royalty here. You prove your worth or you get the hell out. I don’t need another person to look after. I don’t care how fond Talia is of you or how–” the pale blue eyes drifted down over Tony’s body. “–how  _pretty_ you are. I won’t have someone here compromising my work. Be useful or be gone.”  
  
“Fine.” Tony had never been spoken to like that in his life, never been told to prove his worth. He was a Stark, he was nobility and he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, much less a wild, uncouth Russian _rebel._  
  
But when the soldier’s gaze lingered down low a moment too long before lifting again with a clear challenge in an upraised eyebrow, Tony had to push away a shiver of  _awareness_ before he repeated, “Fine.” and held the rifle a little tighter to his body. “Where are we shooting?”  
  
If James was impressed by the show of confidence, he didn’t comment, only grunted and motioned for Tony to follow him down the stairs and through the kitchen, heading for the fields behind the stables.  
  
Tony hated that his heart beat a little faster when James hefted a hay bale up and onto a bench to provide a higher shooting perch, his arms flexing and shirt straining at the seams. 

He  _hated_ it.  
  
He was nervous being around Natalia’s brother, nervous about being around such a dangerous soldier.  
  
That’s all it was.  
  
 _That’s all._  
  
********************  
  
The assortment of guns laid out in front of James and Samuel was absolutely staggering. Tony had grown up around guns, built them from scratch, had stood side by side with members of the Brescia family as they patented new designs, and of course the Stark family had entire rooms full of weaponry but still–  _still_ the array of rifles and pistols and hunting pieces arranged on the ground was  _staggering_.  
  
Honestly, there was enough firepower was enough to outfit a small army and Tony was uncomfortably reminded that while Samuel seemed easy going and Ronin always had soft touches and fond smiles for Natalia, the two men were in fact soldiers, rebels, revolutionaries–  
  
–and James was the one they called  _Commander_.  
  
Tony watched in silence as James made his way through every single piece, checking the sights and making sure the triggers didn’t stick and running his palm over the grip to ensure they were still smooth. If there was a problem, he muttered something to Samuel and occasionally signed to Ronin and one by one the guns were separated into those that needed worked on and the ones that should be working perfectly well.  
  
James cursed out loud when he picked up a well worn rifle and saw the barrel bent, the stock warped, then cursed again as he flung it towards the pile of guns that were beyond saving.  
  
“His favorite rifle?” Tony asked Samuel quietly, and Samuel nodded. “Don’t you have a gun smith who could repair it?”  
  
“We do most of the repairs ourselves.” Samuel frowned when another pistol was added to the trash pile. “But at some point it’s less expensive to simply buy new guns, so that’s what we do.”  
  
“And where does a group of Sokovian revolutionaries get their guns?”  
  
Samuel smiled but his eyes were hard when he replied, “Where ever and however we can.”  
  
“Hm.” Tony took an unconscious step away from the  _danger_ in Samuel’s tone and kept his gaze fixed on the growing stack of discarded weaponry, unable to keep his mind from running ahead–  _A new stock would be easy to fashion, the rifling on the inside of the barrel can be changed to fire a different caliber, it doesn’t need to be that long, in fact it could be more powerful with a shorter_ –  
  
“Here.”  
  
Tony shook himself from his thoughts when James handed him a revolver. “What is this for?”  
  
“There’s the target.” James jerked a thumb towards the crude bulls-eye propped up on the hill. “Show me if you’re worth anything or not. You want to stay here, you prove it.”  
  
“Seems t’me like he doesn’t want to stay here.” Ronin spoke up in that odd, flat accent and when Tony looked over in surprise, he tapped at his left ear. “Can hear you just fine on this side.”  
  
“Oh.”  _Embarrassment_ , flushing up Tony’s cheeks. Ever since learning that Ronin was deaf on the one side, he’d been avoiding even talking to the man, and it had never occurred to Tony that Ronin could hear with his other ear. “My apologies.”  
  
“S'alright. Don’t expect pretty posh royals to have any common sense.” There was no heat in the words, in fact Ronin was offering Tony the closest approximation to a smile Tony had ever seen on the man’s face when Natalia or the twins weren’t around. “No hard feelings.” 

“Thank you.” Tony said stiffly. “I think.”  Obviously James wasn’t the only one who thought Tony didn’t belong here at the manor, and the realization  _stung_.

Maybe  _that_ was why Tony pushed past James to get to the supply table, spinning the cylinder on the revolver and scattering the shot on the ground. It was easy and familiar to brush his fingers over the bullets in the box, automatically checking for any un-evenness, bumps or ridges that were flaws in the casting and could cause a potential misfire, and when he found six he liked, Tony reloaded the revolver with quick efficiency.  
  
Tony whirled around on his heel then, coat flaring out perhaps a  _tad_ too dramatically, and didn’t need more than a few seconds to orient himself before emptying the cylinder towards the bulls-eye, the revolver jerking in his hand with each repeating shot, the flag that served as the target shredding as every one of the bullets plowed through and into the hay bale behind.  
  
There was only silence from the soldiers when Tony handed the revolver back to James, Samuel and Ronin’s eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little.  
  
But James’s expression never changed, not a flicker of surprise, not a begrudging smile,  _nothing_. His only response was to hand Tony another pistol and point him towards the ammunition table before motioning for Samuel and Ronin to do the same, presumably so they could get through testing each of the guns before the sun went down.  
  
Ronin was a crack shot and also something of a trick shot, firing from either hand and sometimes both with deadly accuracy, tossing bottles in the air and shattering them easily, his timing and handle of the pistols unlike anything Tony had ever seen before.  
  
Samuel could use anything he got his hands on, breaking down the guns and making minor, instant repairs when he felt something off, putting them back together and destroying the target with every shot.  
  
James preferred rifles, lifting them to his shoulder and firing one after the other without pause, not so much as flinching at the recoil from the more powerful ones, but stopping to rub at his left shoulder every few minutes and Tony wondered about  _that_.  
  
He didn’t ask though, too distracted by the way James was obliterating the bottles set up almost a thousand meters away. It was almost too far to see clearly, but the sound of glass popping and shattering told Tony every shot was dead on, every bullet finding his mark.  
  
Samuel and Ronin were impressive but James was near sniper level with his rifle and Tony found his eyes trained back on the gun James had been so upset to lose, noting the marks at the barrel that were from a mounted sight, the way the stock had been altered to fit tighter to the body.  
  
He glanced up in time to see James rotating his left shoulder again, then glanced back at the rifle with the custom stock.  
  
 _Huh_.  
  
If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think James  _was_ a sniper but that sort of information was highly tracked across borders and shared with all intelligence agencies, each government wanting to be aware of just how many men could make kill shots from incredible distances.As a gunsmith working with the Brescia family, Tony had been privy to that list for years, and he’d even met two of the persons listed when they came looking for a custom rifle. 

There was a limited number of people who had the proven skill and ability for long distance assassinations and as Tony watched James line up another shot and destroy another bottle he thought maybe the list hadn’t been as  _complete_ as they’d thought.  
  
“Here.” Samuel handed him a double barreled fowling piece, and Tony would have laughed at the antiquity of the rifle had Samuel not added, “Each of the columns in the foyer of the manor have a hidden panel inside, and each panel holds one of these. It’s an older model, but it will kill anyone you point it towards. Get familiar with the weight of this one specifically, it usually is in the column just outside your bedroom door. Talia has one by her room as well.”  
  
“Just outside my bedroom door.” Tony nodded, thinking back to how  _odd_ the column by his door had seemed, obtrusive and out of place in the otherwise bare hallway. “That makes perfect sense.”  
  
“No, it really doesn’t.” Samuel grunted and hefted a piece of his own. “Not in a normal household, but live here for a few more months and it sure will.”  
  
Tony steadied himself and lifted the heavy rifle to his shoulder, taking a deep breath before easing his finger onto the trigger and bracing against the near bruising force recoil of the old gun.  
  
Ronin smirked when Tony cursed at the kick, but James didn’t smirk or laugh or anything along those lines.  
  
He was too busy staring, arms folded and eyes narrowed and heart beating just– just a little too fast.

This nobleman that his sister called  _husband_ wasn’t what James had expected at all.  
  
*******************  
  
“Why do you have my rifle?” The first words James had spoken to Tony in hours, not so much spoken as they were muttered in the dark as they trudged back towards the house. James’s left arm was hanging limply, strain evident in his voice and in his gait but he still didn’t slow or falter, keeping up step for step with the other three. “When I put something in the trash pile, it needs to stay there.”  
  
“Not everything thrown away is trash.” was Tony’s only comment as he held the rifle a little closer, knowing fingers trailing the warped stock, mentally calculating how much material he would need to adjust it and whether or not he could find it around the manor.  
  
“You are more familiar with a weapon than I assumed.” James said next, and Tony replied, “Brescia was involved in a revolution for decades. Even the  _nobility_ had to know how to protect themselves.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
They walked in silence for a few more minutes, then James again– “Talia wants you to stay. I don’t care whether you stay or go, but if you are going to live at the manor, you need to be useful. I have work to do and it will not be interrupted by someone who doesn’t know to mind his business, do you understand?“  
  
“I understand.”  
  
Inside the house, Ronin and Samuel went right for the stairs so they could see Natalia for the first time all day and Tony stayed behind, propping the old rifle against the counter as he poured himself a drink.  
  
James stood in the doorway for several minutes and Tony decidedly  _ignored_ the soldier, sipping at his drink and staring into the fire. He was uncomfortably  _aware_ of James, of the breadth of his shoulders and span of his hands and the way ice blue eyes never wavered and it was uncomfortable. This was Talia’s brother, a rebel soldier and a killer and Tony had no business even caring, much less looking and it was _uncomfortable._  
  
His heart was still broken from Ty, his words brittle and reactions edged in anger. More nights than not, Tony still dreamed about home and woke up feeling lonelier than ever, and every day Tony stayed at the manor house was another day he slipped towards just not  _caring_ anymore.  
  
Natalia’s speech about the joy of simply existing had only served to remind Tony that he didn’t entirely  _want_ to exist anymore, not in a world of lies and half truths and rejected love and shame and–  
  
“Talia said I should ask you why you came with her to Russia.” James finally spoke, his deep voice cutting the quiet and putting an effective halt to Tony’s spiraling thoughts.  
  
“I assumed you already knew.” Tony didn’t look at the big brunette. “Family of spies and all that.”  
  
“I am not a  _spy_.” James intoned. “I’m a soldier and a commander and I don’t ask things more than once.”  
  
“No, of course you don’t.” Tony refilled his drink before he answered, “I was in a relationship. And then I  _wasn’t_ in a relationship and Natalia arrived at a convenient time and offered an escape. That is the entire story, no more, no less.”  
  
“You were in love with a woman below your station.” James guessed and Tony shook his head. “A woman already married then?”  
  
“No.” Another negative shake of his head and Tony cleared his throat loudly. “He ah–  _he_ had a wife.”  
  
Tony wasn’t watching, so he didn’t see James straighten up, eyes widening and arms falling to his sides.  
  
“…what?”  
  
“A  _pregnant_ wife.” Tony emphasized, his throat working as he swallowed back the familiar surge of anger. “And I wish I could say I did the honorable thing and left quietly to keep their family together and avoid the scandal but the truth is–”  
  
Tony took a deep breath, looked down at his feet. “The truth is, I did the cowardly thing and left before I killed him. Your sister stopped me at the masquerade ball and told me that I had murder in my eyes, that I should have time for a drink before slitting someone’s throat. I agreed, and now I’m here.”  
  
“You would have killed him for breaking your heart.” James said in disbelief, the first real inflection in his voice all day. “And Talia stopped you?”  
  
“You sound surprised.” Tony said bitterly. “You haven’t wanted to kill for love?”

“I’ve never loved anyone enough to want to.”

“I see.” Tony finished his drink without saying another word, picked up the old rifle and brushed past James on his way up the stairs, and the soldier stayed in the kitchen for a minute after Tony had gone, helping himself to a drink of his own before saying–  
  
“You’re spy skills are as abominable as they’ve always been, Natalia. How long were you going to pretend I didn’t know you were there behind the door?”  
  
“I wasn’t pretending anything.” The redhead stepped from the shadows and took James’s drink right from his hands, tossing it back in one gulp. “Pour me another.”  
  
“Pour it yourself.” James groused, but he topped of the glass again and Natalia gave him a real smile, the first since he’d come back.  
  
“So?” she asked, one word and only one, knowing full well that James knew what she was asking, but it was still several minutes before James replied–  
  
“Your husband can keep my room. I’ll be staying in one further down the hall.”  
  
“You’re staying.” Another smile, this one tremulous and almost hopeful. “For how long?”  
  
James looked towards the stairs, up to where Tony had disappeared, feeling the ever present awareness towards the nobleman shift further into something… something  _else_. “….for a little while, at least.”

“You lied you know.” Natalia said over the rim of the cup. “To Antonio just now. You lied.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You are a formidable soldier and an abominable liar.” Natalia threw the word back at him. “You loved enough to kill for Steve.”

James’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing into something painful and  _hateful_. “And how would you know that?”

“I’m a better spy than you give me credit for.” she retorted, and quieter– “And there isn’t much that drives a man to the sort of violence you dole out every day. Not much other than love that has been lost.”

“Watch yourself, Natalia. There is a reason I don’t speak of this sort of thing.”

“I know.” she said simply. “And there is a reason Antonio never speaks of it either… but he spoke of it to you, didn’t he?”

“I–”

“I’m glad you’re home, brother.” Natalia stood far on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Stay this time.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just a quick note— I’ll be updating this fic once a week now! It’s about 5 chapters away from finishing up on my kofi Page so I am far enough ahead to start posting faster on here!   
> Thanks for reading!

Life was busy at the manor house.  
  
James had been adamant that Tony be  _useful_ , that he  _contribute_ so every morning Tony rose with the sun, pulling the blankets up over the massive bed and getting dressed in his least fancy clothes to help out where ever he could around the estate.  
  
The horses needed fed and stalls mucked out so Tony picked up a shovel right along with Ronin and did his best to help even though he’d never so much as saddled his own horse before. The Stark family had  _people_ for that sort of thing, and as Tony shoveled manure from behind several geldings and two different war stallions, he was struck by the knowledge that now  _he_ was the people who did this sort of thing.  
  
But he didn’t complain.  
  
There was always  _always_ wood to be chopped and Tony was relegated to the woodshed to stack the pieces as they were thrown his way, his back aching and arms straining from bending and lifting and tossing onto the ever growing piles. He grumbled to himself, wondering how it had never occurred to him  _how much_ wood it took to heat a house, and mentally apologizing to the servants that had had to constantly stoke his fire in the winter because Tony insisted on his room being warm to the point of sweating.  
  
He would never waste firewood again.  
  
The gardens, bare as they were, still needed to be tilled and prepared for new plantings in the spring now that Natalia was home to stay and that meant the fences needed to be prepared as well to keep animals away. Driving fence posts was so much harder than Tony had ever imagined, and running barbed wire through the larger gaps ended with cut palms and bruised fingers that Wanda treated with soothing poultices and linen strips.  
  
_Be useful or be gone_  James had said, so Tony cursed the strained muscles and flexed his busted knuckles and borrowed a pair of gloves so he could keep right on working.

The physical labor was a relief, in a way. Pushing his body to the limit left no time for Tony’s mind to wander, dropping into bed exhausted every night kept him from dreaming. There was no chance for Tony to be melancholy, moping about his lot in life when there were repairs to be made and fence to be stretched and he couldn’t feel out of place when there was always a spot open at the dinner table when he came to eat.  
  
It was a  _relief_ , and Tony didn’t allow himself too much reflection on why exactly that was.

  
“Here.” Ronin stopped him one day in the hall, a firm but friendly hand on Tony’s arm to keep him from continuing past. “You’re bout walking out of your shoes and those fancy pants won’t do you much good when the weather changes, so try these on for size.“  
  
“Oh.” Tony was accustomed to Ronin’s odd speech pattern, to the way the former soldier signed most words even when being verbal, but he still wasn’t accustomed to seeing Ronin  _smile_ , to seeing the usual somber features transformed into happy wrinkles and it always took him a moment to respond.  
  
“Oh.” Tony said again and offered a hesitant smile in return, taking the pile of clothes and set of sturdy boots out of Ronin’s hands. “Thank you. How much do I owe you for these? At the risk of sounding unfortunately posh, I have no basis for how much clothing costs.”  
  
“What do you mean how much do you owe me?” Ronin blinked at him slowly, incredulously. “If they fit you, wear them. If they don’t fit, don’t wear them. Why would you give me money?”  
  
“I don’t want to put you out any supplies.” Tony clarified. “And since I have the money to pay for this, I want you to–”  
  
“Antonio.” Ronin signed a motion that he usually reserved for Pietro, one Tony knew meant ‘ _shut up_ ’. “We are  _family_  here, we don’t buy clothes from one another. You need clothes, I have extra clothes. Don’t insult me by offering money.”  
  
“F-Family.” Tony repeated, more than a little stunned, more than a little humbled. “I understand.”  
  
“You obviously don’t.” There was no heat in Ronin’s words but Tony flushed in embarrassment anyway. “But stay longer and you will.”  
  
“Um–” Tony was still staring at the clothes when Ronin moved past him towards the stairs, but he shook himself out of his stupor in time to say, “It’s just Tony. You– you can call me Tony. Antonio is very formal and I suppose there’s no need for that.”  
  
“Yep.” Ronin tossed Tony a careless salute and went on his way, and Tony retreated to his room to try on the new clothes and footwear.     
  
Chores were easier in the boots even if they were at least a half size too big, and Tony hadn’t realized how threadbare his trousers were until he wore one of the hand-me-downs from Ronin. The coarse material was scratchy, heavy and  _hot_ , but that night was the first time Tony didn’t have briars and hay dug into his skin, and that alone made the the transition from custom made, tailored trousers to work pants  _worth it._

Pietro took an immense amount of glee in dropping more than one box on Tony’s newly booted foot, a laugh that was nearly a cackle when Tony jumped and scowled, the boy calling, “What, you didn’t see that coming?” from the top of the loft. “S’good thing you got boots now, you post Italian!”   
  
Tony snapped something back in Italian that needed absolutely  _no_ translation judging by the way Samuel chuckled and clapped his hands, and Ronin ignored them all to keep right on working.  
  
Pietro squawked about feeling as if he’d just been cursed in some foreign language and Samuel agreed with him, adding, “Pietro. Check your trousers. If Tony did curse you and it didn’t affect your mouth, probably affected somethin’ else, yeah?” 

“Um…” Pietro frowned and Ronin clarified, “Are you still a man, Pietro?” 

“Oh! Son of a–” Pietro yelled out and ripped the ties of his pants in a comically dramatic attempt to check that he was still in tact, and then wiped his forehead and flashed everyone a thumbs up upon seeing that everything was okay. 

Tony threw back his head and laughed and laughed, and the commotion caught James’s attention as he passed by outside the store room. He stopped in the doorway to watch for a moment, pausing just in time to see Tony laughing, his eyes crinkling and mouth falling open, and James froze where he was and just  _stared_.  
  
_Christ_ the man had no right being so gorgeous.  
  
Tony caught James out of the corner of his eyes and turned with a grin still lingering on his lips, fully intending to ask if James had another chore for him to do but words failed, his mouth going dry when he saw the  _look_ simmering in those pale blue eyes.  
  
_Oh god._  
  
Then James smiled, slow and purposeful and  _knowing_ and Tony’s heart flipped in his chest, heat sparking in his stomach as he realized just how much a smile changed James’s face, how it softened the severe features and highlighted the set of his jaw and–  
  
_No_.

Tony purposefully turned away and went back to work.   
  
_No_ , he wasn’t going to allow himself to think too much about  _that_ at all.  
  
*******************  
  
“Antonio my love–” Natalia started one morning after breakfast and Samuel interrupted– “Apparently it’s just Tony these days.”– and when Tony looked over at him in surprise, Samuel sent him a wink.  
  
“You  _Americans_ can butcher his perfectly lovely name if you want to.” Natalia sniffed. “But I prefer to not insult his mother and the grandpapa he is most certainly named after by shortening it to  _Tony_.”  
  
“You Americans?” Samuel started to laugh, and Ronin flashed his love an offended glare. “And what exactly does  _that_ mean? Besides Talia, you don’t know if Tony was named after his grandpapa! He could have been named after the family dog!”  
  
“He’s Italian, darling.” Natalia’s green eyes sparkled over the top of her coffee cup. “He’s most certainly named after someone important. I’m fairly certain only  _you Americans_  name loved ones after pets.”  
  
“Antonio was not my dog’s name.” Tony said firmly, and even Ronin laughed at him. “All my mama’s favorite composers are named Antonio and I’m sure she was hoping I’d take after them in both genius and creativity, or at the very least in a love for music.”  
  
“And  _do_ you take after them?” Wanda asked from her perch on the counter, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Are you brilliant and creative and love music?”  
  
“Do you play an instrument, Antonio?” Natalia leaned forward curiously. “There is a piano in one of the upstairs parlors and a smaller harpsichord as well. I know we have must have a violin somewhere, James–”  
  
“I packed it away after Ma.” James spoke from the chair closest to the window, his first words all morning. “But it could be found again.”  
  
“It would be lovely to have music in the house again.” Natalia finished. “Do you play, love?”  
  
“I’m afraid most of my brilliance and creativity mostly lies in designing firearms alongside  _Signore_ Brescia, not with the piano or violin like Mama wanted, but I do love music.” Tony’s smile dimmed thinking of his mother, his eyes shuttering in sadness and James looked away as well, hiding the mirrored grief on his own features under the guise of finishing his breakfast.  _He missed his ma_. “She used to play the piano every night, singing lullabies though I’d already gone to bed. I could hear her from my room and after everything–”  
  
Tony cleared his throat and took a long drink of his water. “–before I left Italy with Natalia she played for me as well. It would seem we’re never too old for our mama’s to sing us to sleep, hm?”  
  
“Our mother used to sing us lullabies at night too.” it was Pietro who spoke first in the following quiet, his voice carefully measured and hands holding tight to Wanda. “We miss her every day.”  
  
“ _Mia mamma_ , she’s the only thing about home I miss.” Tony carried his plate to the wash basin and rinsed it off. “And Natalia, I would enjoy playing again if the piano is in decent shape. I might be out of practice, but music is something you don’t ever forget, hm?”   
  
Natalia’s smile was so pleased that Ronin bent and kissed her simply because he loved to see her happy.  
  
Natalia and Wanda were the only one’s to call Tony  _Antonio_ after that morning, Samuel and Pietro obviously agreeing with Ronin that family meant no need for formal names.  
  
James didn’t call Tony anything seeing as how he rarely spoke to anyone at all, and Tony even less than the others.  
  
But he  _watched_ , narrowed his eyes and cocked his head and  _watched_ as Tony got better at pitching hay, as he got faster at digging fence posts, when Wanda struggled with lifting the flour sacks and Tony came over to take them on his own shoulder, when Tony relaxed after a few drinks and would laugh out loud over Samuel’s stories.  
  
And James  _watched_ one night as Tony stripped off his shirt in the yard and cleaned up with a bucket of water, scrubbing over his chest, down his arms and over the bruises on his side from when the rung on the ladder had given away earlier and pitched him several feet onto the ground.  
  
Nothing had been broken, so Tony had struggled to his feet and kept right on working and now he was wincing, grimacing as the cold water splashed over the scratches and cuts, hissing when his ribs  _pulled_ as he tried to wash.  
  
And James  _watched_ because he couldn’t help himself, because he couldn’t look away from the display of skin and the lean muscles that shifted as Tony bent over to pick up the towel to dry himself, and he couldn’t look away from the dark hair that was getting long enough to curl around Tony’s ears and the water droplets that fell onto his shoulders and trickled down towards his navel.  
  
James couldn’t look away so he just  _watched_ until Tony straightened and saw him.  
  
Tony lifted his chin, dark eyes flashing, obviously waiting for James to say something along the lines of his usual caustic comments, but James only asked, “Why do you prefer Tony instead of Antonio?”  
  
“I don’t prefer one or the other.” Tony said evenly, refusing to break their stare down, apparently taking the question as something of a challenge. “But I was Antonio back in Italy, and I’m someone else altogether here in Sokovia. It seems fitting to change my name as well.”  
  
“Hm.” James let his eyes drift over Tony’s form again. “Good night.”  
  
“… good night?” Tony repeated, but James had already left, disappearing into the growing shadows of evening as he went to check on the horses one last time before bed. “Alright then, good night.” 

James never said anything about that moment when he’d stared as Tony washed, and Tony never said anything about it either. But James was much less subtle about the way he  _watched_ after that, and Tony was less subtle about the way he noticed. 

And one night when the cover came off the old piano upstairs, James watched as Tony and Samuel tuned the beautiful instrument until it played well enough for Tony to sit and pick out pieces of familiar melodies and scales and chords. 

He watched with narrowed eyes as Wanda hummed along to the classical pieces and as Natalia swayed to the rhythm and Ronin tilted his head and closed his eyes to hear better. 

There hadn’t been music in the manor since James’s Ma had passed and hearing it again made the soldier feel as if he couldn’t  _breathe_. 

So James tore his eyes away from watching Tony’s fingers trip up and down the keys and left the room, taking the stairs two at a time until he made it out into the cold night air. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands and stared up at the stars to try and clear his mind, not returning to the house until long after the music had faded away and the lamps had gone out.

 _He missed his ma._  
  
Natalia didn’t say anything about James’s abrupt departure the next morning, but she stood on her toes and hugged him before he left for chores and for the first time in a long time, James hugged her back.

”I miss her too.” Talia said softly and James swallowed hard, nodded. “It was good to hear music again, wasn’t it?” 

”It was…something.” 

”Our Antonio.” Natalia raised her eyebrows. “He is something as well, hm?” 

”I have chores to do.” James extricated his sister’s arms from around his neck. “Nosy.” 

Natalia laughed and pushed him away, and if James was smiling a little bit as he went through his chores–

–well that was no one’s business but his own.   
  
*****************  
  
“Oh hello, Antonio.” Natalia was nearly to her room late one night when she heard Tony come up the stairs. “How are your ribs healing? ”  
  
“The bruising is almost completely gone and despite Pietro’s best attempt at flattening me with a hay bale today, I managed to survive.” Tony’s smiles happened easier these days, and Natalia’s heart squeezed a little when the one for her was soft and sweet.  
  
She’d been so worried Tony would leave after the lies, and then worried that he would break under the mental strain of handling the new truths. She’d been nearly sick to her stomach  _anxious_ over his and James’s interactions, nervous about Tony taking on more chores, about his trading a life of ease for the hard work that came with just living in Sokovia, much less living in a house with no servants and a family with ties to the revolution and layers of secrets.  
  
Natalia had been worried because she knew the shadows were still there in Tony’s heart, seeping into his eyes and hardening the edges of his words and while the smiles came more often and the laughs seemed genuine, Natalia was well aware that broken fences were mended easier than broken hearts, that a good day didn’t mean the depression had gone, and that  _anger_ had a way of taking root and digging in whether they fully realized it or not.  
  
But most days– most days Natalia thought Tony was going to be alright.  
  
“I’m glad to hear it.” she said gently. “And did James find you?”  
  
“Was he looking for me?” Tony returned, a dull flush in his cheeks and familiar  _twist_ in his stomach thinking about the way James had looked at him the night he’d bathed in the yard, the way the soldier had simply  _watched_ with no shame and no hesitancy.  
  
“He asked where you were, yes.” Natalia tilted her head curiously. “You’re blushing, Antonio. Did he find you and say something inappropriate?”  
  
“I don’t think James ever says much at all.” Tony’s answer and expression gave absolutely nothing away and Natalia was struck all over again by just how controlled he could be when needed. “Was he looking for me for a specific reason?”  
  
“I don’t think it was anything in particular, I suppose he wanted to spend some time with you.” Natalia tapped her chin thoughtfully, but Tony still didn’t rise to the bait and ask  _why_. “Well then. I suppose we’ll say good night.”  
  
“ _Buona notte_.” Tony inclined his head and disappeared into his room without another word.  
  
“Are you meddling, Talia?” Samuel asked when she came to the room, stretched out lounging across the bed with only a sheet over his hips. “Is Tony making eyes at ol’ Buck?”  
  
“ _Buck_?” Natalia sighed in exasperation as she pulled the pins from her hair. “I thought he let that terrible nickname die in America. My god, what was he thinking letting you call him  _Bucky_ when his name is James?”  
  
“Are we calling him Bucky again?” Ronin only caught the last bit of Natalia’s question. “He doesn’t do that anymore, not since Steve.”  
  
“No, we are most certainly not calling James  _Bucky_ again.” Natalia finished her hair and Ronin stepped forward to help with the buttons on her gown, slipping it off her shoulders and helping her step away pooled on the ground. “But I think he and our Antonio are… interesting. There is something there between them, whether either are ready to admit it.”  
  
“I don’t think Buck–” Samuel cleared his throat when Natalia glared. “– _James_ will ever be ready for that sort of admission. Not with Tony, not with anyone else.”  
  
“It’s been ten years.” Natalia countered and Ronin signed  _not long enough_  when they both looked his way. “Is he still grieving for his lost love, you think?”  
  
“Isn’t Tony still grieving for  _his_ lost love?”  
  
“I think…” Natalia chose her next words carefully. “I think Antonio isn’t quite ready for love or romance. But I  _do_ think he isn’t as broken up about the man he left behind as we assume he is.“

"Well, I think we should focus more on getting into our own bed and less on whether or not your brother and husband are trying to romance each other.” Samuel made a face. “That was a terrible sentence, don’t let me say that again.”

Natalia laughed at him, but left her chemise and underpinnings on the floor to crawl on the bed and settle over Samuel’s hips, sighing quietly when Ronin moved behind her to mouth hungry kisses into her throat. “ _Mmmm_ , I think that is an excellent idea, my loves.”

  
*****************  
  
James liked to be up earlier than anyone else in the house, starting a fire in the main room to ward off the morning chill, taking his coffee along to be sure the windows had stayed shut during the night, that the main gate was still locked.  
  
The walk through of the property was not only to satisfy James’s need for safety, the need to be aware of his surroundings, but the morning routine also gave James a chance to  _think_ , to work through all the details of his new day to day. 

Life at the manor was a far cry from being  _komandir_ of the rebel forces, of sleeping in tents and on the ground and making plan after plan to ensure their army survived another day. And even though part of James ached to be back waging war–

–another part of him was enjoying being home again, seeing his sister for the first time in so long. 

Natalia was happy these days, happier than James had ever seen her. She smiled when Samuel or Ronin entered the room, had soft words and gentle touches for Wanda and Pietro and even though Antonio was not as receptive to physical affection and familial offerings, Natalia tried with him as well.  
  
She’d put on weight and she was  _lovely_ , looking more and more like their sweet ma every day and after years of being practically a waif, tiny and delicate and nearly breakable, it was reassuring to see Talia eating, to see her resting, to know that any bruises present were earned from a bang into a wash basin or a scrape during chores, not from a brute of a husband who used her as he saw fit.  
  
James hadn’t expected to enjoy being at the manor, honestly he’d expected to come home and say his piece, to drag his sister’s newest husband out into the pasture and put him out of  _everyone’s_ misery and then to return to his post with the soldiers, ready and more than willing to go another several years without seeing this wretched place again.  
  
But here James was anyway, scratching his fingers behind the ears of his war stallion Zima and crooning soft things to the massive animal, feeding it slices of apple and picking burrs from the long mane while idly noting that the beams in the barn needed replacing, that the wall needed patching in certain spots, unconsciously making a list of all the projects he would take on before the snow came.  
  
He was already helping Samuel and Ronin fix the far pasture fences and lay cobblestones for a sturdier walkway so the women wouldn’t trip on their way to and from the store room. Pietro had asked for help with his marksmanship so James was working with him every evening and Antonio– well Antonio didn’t ask for anything, didn’t hardly say anything, and generally went out of his way to be as unobtrusive as possible, so James didn’t help him with anything.   
  
The Italian did his chores in relative silence even though James purposefully gave him difficult tasks to see if he faltered. Antonio had yet to complain, even when his palms had blistered and bled from running fence, even when his back ached from stacking wood, even when the ladder rung had given out and he had pitched to the rocks, most likely breaking a rib or two even though he hadn’t uttered a word of protest.  
  
James had told the pretty brunette to be useful or be gone, to  _prove_ himself and Antonio had stepped up to the challenge with a stubborn set to his jaw and hardened glint in his eye and despite James’s anger over Natalia taking another husband, despite his lingering distrust of the entire situation—  
  
—James liked him.  
  
He  _liked_ him.  
  
Antonio was a far cry from golden blonde hair and bright, laughing blue eyes, not anything close to arms that could wrestle James to the ground and hands that could pin him to the bed in a sweetly possessive hold. Antonio was posh and put together, not reckless and wild. He was cultured and careful with every word, as opposite as could be from deceptively innocent expressions and a wonderfully filthy mouth.  
  
Antonio was completely different than anyone James had ever loved and–

 _–oh god_  he didn’t love Antonio, of course he didn’t. No, it wasn’t love, not even close. If anything it was  _lust_ and a bit of grudging respect, the desire to mess that thick hair and bruise the red lips with a kiss combined with a hint of appreciation for Antonio’s surprising work ethic. It was the gnawing  _loneliness_ that had been James’s constant companion for nearly ten years and a curiosity that grew stronger every time Antonio refused to look away when their eyes met.  
  
It wasn’t love, not even close.  
  
But in a tiny, nearly silent part of James’s soul, the part that wasn’t completely lost to a winter of bitterness and blood, the part that was relieved to be home, to be sleeping within familiar walls and having dinner with his family every night…  
  
That part had James wondering  _what if_ , had him thinking  _maybe_ , had his breath catching just a bit when Antonio stepped into the stables ready to help with chores and offered him a smile.  
  
“Antonio.” he said evenly, masking his earlier thoughts with a carefully blank expression. “How does the morning find you?”  
  
“Just fine.” Tony answered just as evenly and James handed him a shovel and motioned for him to begin.  
  
“It’s just Tony, by the way.” Tony said after a few moments and James paused in his work to listen. “I’ve decided I prefer Tony now.”  
  
“Tony, then.” James leaned on his shovel and watched a soft blush climb Tony’s cheeks.  _Fucking gorgeous_. “So how does the morning find you,  _Tony_?”  
  
“Just fine.” Tony said again, but he stopped and leaned on his shovel as well, meeting James’s eyes steadily despite his blush. “And yours, James?”  
  
James smiled because he couldn’t help himself. “Looking like it’s going to be interesting.”  
  
*****************  
  
Wanda was sewing in the parlor, patching a pair of trousers and darning several sets of socks and Pietro sat at her feet, reading aloud from a book of poetry to keep her company while she worked.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking, brother.” Wanda snipped her thread and tied it off, smoothing and stretching her stitches to make sure they were straight. “You have never once sat willingly and read me poetry while I mend our clothes, which means you have something to ask me and I know what that is.”  
  
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” Pietro denied, taking the freshly patched trousers and setting them in the laundry, handing her a set of socks. “But tell me anyway, so I can tell you you’re wrong.”  
  
“You’re thinking you want to ask James to take you back with him when he returns to his soldiers.” Wanda said matter of factly. “You’re thinking you’ve had enough of staying here and doing women’s work, that Samuel and Ronin are only content because Natalia is here, but you have no one but family and you are bored.”  
  
“I–” Pietro opened his mouth to argue, then scowled terribly up at his twin. “Alright then. And what do  _you_ think about that?”  
  
“I think I’ve lost enough family to this war.” Wanda took the next socks Pietro handed up, squeezing at his hand before letting go. “You wouldn’t make me say goodbye to you as well, would you? I think that would be very cruel.”  
  
“I’d come home, Wanda.” Pietro insisted. “It isn’t as if I’m going to run off like James did, flee the continent and not come home and not send word for years on end.”  
  
“Oh no? You wouldn’t?”  
  
“No of course not! I’d come home.” he said again, scooting closer so Wanda would twist her fingers into his hair. “I’d never stay away like James did. You’re my sister and I’d never leave you to face the world alone.”  
  
“I’m afraid you’ll get a taste for adventure and never want to come back again.” Wanda felt around in her scraps bag for a piece for the heel of the woolen sock. “And it won’t be like when you get married and leave me, this is you leaving and going off to be shot at, fighting the revolution with limited supplies and few weapons and a chance of victory so slim it’s nearly gone.”  
  
“Hush now.” Pietro frowned again. “Wanda, I’m not going to be reckless about it. Don’t worry.”  
  
“War won’t really give you a choice.” Satisfied with the piece she found, Wanda went back to sewing. “But in the spring if you still want to run off and play war, I suppose I’ll have to give you my blessing. Better that than you run off with bad feelings between us, or you run off and do something stupid because you are unprepared and not willing to listen to reason.”  
  
“You think I’d do that? Not listen to you and do something stupid? Do you have so little faith in me?”  
  
“I think you did exactly that last week when I told you not to drink the milk but you stole it from the fridge anyway and drank it all down along with a dozen cookies.” she retorted. “You will forgive me for not having much faith in your decisions.”  
  
“Fine.” Pietro groused, and went back to reading for a few more minutes. “Wanda, do you think Talia loves Tony?”  
  
“Like she loves Ronin and Samuel?” Wanda shook her head. “Absolutely not. I think she cares for him like she cares for us, but there is no romance. I do not think a relationship started on so many lies could turn to that sort of love.”  
  
“It does in those awful novels you read.” Pietro countered, then yelped when his comment earned him a smack on the head. “ _Ouch_! Why–”  
  
“Stop sneaking and reading my books.” Wanda scolded lightly. “Talia and Antonio will never love in the same way she and her Americans do. They started too terribly and Antonio’s heart was broken by someone more like  _James_ than Natalia, do you understand?”  
  
“…no.”  
  
“There is a  _reason_ Antonio doesn’t stare when Natalia tucks her skirts to her knees to garden.”  
  
“…because he loves James?”  
  
“Not yet he doesn’t.” Wanda smiled to herself as she stitched a row. “But Talia has been gossiping with me and she thinks there is something there. Two brooding, mysterious men drawn together after having their hearts broken? Falling in love on the wild lands of a Sokovian manor?  _That_ sounds like something from my romance novels.”  
  
“This conversation has taken a turn for the worse.” Pietro decided. “I’m going to leave if you’re going to talk that way.”  
  
“You were the one who asked,  _dorogoy_.” Wanda said blandly. “But go on, go find Ronin and ask him to train with you. Remember what I said though, you cannot leave me until Spring.”  
  
“Wanda–”  
  
“ _Promise_ me, Pietro.”  
  
“Alright, I promise.”  
  
“Go on then.” Wanda inclined her head to the door and Pietro dropped a kiss on her forehead as he went. “And be careful please.”  
  
“I’m twelve minutes older than you, you know. It should be me telling you to be careful.”  
  
“And yet which one of us drank the spoiled milk last week?”  
  
*******************  
  
Tiberius had smoked for as long as Tony had known him– elegant, expensive rolled cigars imported from around the world, smoked only in the company of other wealthy lords, accompanied by expensive wines and whiskeys.  
  
It was careful and practiced just like everything Tiberius had done, everything from the tilt of his wrist to the plumes of smoke billowing about his head timed and deliberate, a purposeful showcase of his wealth without seeming to boast. He had a smoking jacket, delicately embroidered and set in colors that perfectly complemented the parlor of his sprawling estate and Tiberius was the focus of the room at any given point, even doing something as indulgent as using a cigar.  
  
James smoked as well, but it wasn’t careful or elegant or  _planned_. He held a hand rolled cigarette as if he didn’t notice it was there until he was ready for another heavy drag in, he exhaled smoke and didn’t care where it went. There wasn’t a smoking parlor in the manor, so James simply lit up as he walked to make the rounds or posted up at a tree to watch the sunset. There was no pomp or circumstance to it, no parade of men sitting with each other while making idle yet important sounding chatter, no fancy jacket worn specifically for the activity.   
  
Tiberius smoked because it was something done as a nobleman, James smoked because he just  _did_ and the action served as yet another reminder to Tony of just how  _fake_ his life and love with Tiberius had been.   
  
Tonight Tony paused at the door of the kitchen and watched James light up in the evening shadows, the brief flare of his match darkening to cherry red at his first pull in, his sharp features lit for just a second before fading away and Tony found himself staring without realizing, without  _caring_ for several minutes.  
  
James flicked away the ash and rubbed it into the dirt with his toe before raising his voice only a notch to say, “You are staring like a man desperate for a smoke.”  
  
“I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing.” Tony left out how he’d only ever smoked expensive cigars and hadn’t enjoyed the taste, and he left out that he certainly hadn’t been staring at the  _cigarette_.  
  
“And yet you’re staring.” Another drag in, another cloud of smoke around James’s head. “Come here and have some if you want it so badly.”  
  
Tony should have said no and went back inside. He didn’t like the taste of cigarettes, certainly not the cheap style a soldier would smoke, so he had no reason to say anything except  _no_ at all.  
  
But James was challenging him again, offering the cigarette out between his fingers as if fully expecting Tony to come and take it so that’s exactly what Tony did, crossing the yard and stepping right into James’s space beneath the tree.  
  
“Not one to back down, are you?” the soldier’s murmur was very nearly impressed and Tony kept his voice quiet to reply, “I think I’ve had enough of backing down to last me a lifetime.”  
  
James’s laugh was low, barely more than a rumble and he held up the cigarette again so Tony could see it.  
  
And Tony  _could_ have taken it right from James’s hand, held it himself and inhaled the sweet clove vapor before handing it back, but instead Tony leaned in closer, parted his lips and waited, offering James a  _challenge_ of his own.  
  
James didn’t laugh this time, instead he muttered a curse and positioned the cigarette carefully at Tony’s bottom lip and when Tony inhaled, James’s other hand came up to cup his jaw, a calloused thumb sweeping over a smooth cheek and coming to rest just at the corner of Tony’s mouth, holding him close and holding him  _still_ and it would have been nothing at all to close those few inches between them into a kiss.

 _Nothing at all._  
  
When Tony tipped his head back to exhale, James didn’t let go, his gaze dropping to watch as full lips opened and pursed to let the smoke back out into the air, the breath loud in the otherwise quiet night and the answering hitch in James’s next breath just as noticeable when he felt the flex of Tony’s tongue pressing at his thumb from behind his lip.  
  
“More?” James’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears even as his fingers tightened at Tony’s jaw. “Hm?”  
  
“That’s enough.” Tony murmured and James took the cigarette back, ready to take a deep drag of his own to calm the  _thrum_ in his veins when Tony added, “For now.”  
  
“For now.” James repeated and this time it was Tony who turned on his heel and walked away as if he’d been less than affected by their moment together, leaving James staring after him.  
  
“Fucking hell.” he whispered, putting the cigarette out against a tree and dragging both hands through his hair. “ _Chto ya delayu_ , what am I doing?”


	8. Chapter 8

With the cold season on the way, Natalia wanted all the of the heavier blankets taken from the attic and washed, and that meant hauling massive tubs out into the yard and filling them with water, soaking the quilts and hanging them over lines. It was surprisingly back breaking work, and Tony would have felt bad about sweating through it if he hadn’t looked over and seen even  _Samuel_ struggling to lift one of the heavier ones by himself.  
  
“Come my love, let me help.” Natalia had forgone her usual morning dress to wear a pair of Ronin’s trousers, the too long cuffs rolled up around her delicate feet and and waist cinched so it didn’t fall to her hips. The tail ends of her blouse were tied up around her midriff, and Talia didn’t even flinch stepping barefoot through the mud and grass to hold one side of the quilt steady for Samuel. “I think this one for our bed this winter, don’t you? I love this shade of green.  
  
Ronin passed by and palmed a possessive hand over Natalia’s rear, then signed/said, “I want blue for winter.”  
  
“No.” Natalia shook her head, then signed one handed–  _“I am pretty in green_.”  
  
“You’re pretty in everything, sweetheart.” Samuel laughed and Ronin waggled his eyebrows in obvious agreement. “But I have to agree with Ronin. Blue this winter.”  
  
“Whichever you’d both like then.” Natalia tipped her head back and gave Ronin a long kiss, murmuring something else into his good ear that his hands tightening at her rear again. “So long as you’re there to share it with me.”

  
Tony watched the exchange silently, then went back to securing one of the lighter quilts with clips, careful to keep it from dragging on the ground as he went.  
  
“The only reason Ronin and Samuel didn’t bury you out back when you came to the manor calling Talia  _wife_ is because she had a chance to tell them the truth of your circumstances.” James spoke from behind Tony, muscling a soaking wet blanket up and over the line easily. “But that won’t stop Ronin from putting an arrow in your chest if you keep looking at her like that.”  
  
“I’m not looking at Talia any certain way that would deserve an arrow in my chest.” Tony didn’t so much as blink at the sudden presence beside him, more than aware of every step James had taken around the courtyard that morning, always  _always_ noticing where ever the man was at any given time.  
  
Since that night beneath the tree when they had shared a cigarette, everything had changed. Well perhaps not  _changed_ so much as everything had  _amplified_ and most days Tony thought he would drown under the intensity of it all.  
  
James was  _extraordinary_ , his eyes steady when he stared, his body unyielding when they bumped in the hall or during chores, his focus unwavering when Tony caught his attention, his voice nearly a growl when they spoke. He was frightening because of his size, because of his demeanor, because of his violent past but chills still swept through Tony when they bumped in the hall, and heat curled low in his stomach when the coolness in James’s eyes melted to something  _hot_ whenever he saw Tony’s hands on a rifle.  
  
Extraordinary. Intense. Potent and fierce and Tony was  _drowning_.  
  
Not that he would ever show how overwhelmed he was, not when James presented every moment between them like a challenge. He dared Tony to back down from sentences that twisted into innuendos, from unnecessary touches lingered at Tony’s waist or arm. When there was only one seat open at the dinner table, James would wait to see if Tony would take it and risk their thighs brushing and knees knocking or if he’d decide to eat standing up at the counter like Pietro did so often. 

Everything was a  _challenge_ , a give and take between them whether it came in the form of words or working too closely together or the charged moments of silence where neither acknowledged the  _tension_ , and Tony wasn’t going to back down.

 _He’d had quite enough of backing down for one lifetime, thank you._  
  
“You’re looking at her as if you are jealous.” James’s words brought Tony back to the moment. “Are you jealous of my sister, Tony?”  
  
“I’m too busy hanging blankets to be jealous.” Tony returned evenly. “And furthermore, what would I be jealous  _of_ , exactly? That Natalia cannot reach the line by herself? That she is walking barefoot through the muck? If she moves any which way too suddenly, she’ll damn well lose her trousers? Which of those are supposed to make me jealous?”  
  
James smiled over the sarcasm and Tony blinked a few times, never prepared for just how much a smile changed Jame’s face, softening the ever present stoicism with eye crinkles and laugh lines at his cheeks for just a few seconds before it was gone.  
  
“Either way, careful where your eyes linger.” James commented, stretching the blanket out and pinning it in place. “Samuel isn’t as relaxed as he seems and I’ve seen Ronin kill for alot less than someone ogling the woman he loves. You might be family, but that will only guarantee you a quick, painless death.”  
  
“I can assure you, I was in no way ogling Talia.” Tony shook out another quilt and tossed it over the line before adding, “Especially since I’m more inclined to ogle the  _men_ of the Romanov heritage. But your concern and advice is noted.”  
  
James’s eyes flashed with  _interest_ ,but before he could respond, Pietro plunked down a fresh basin of water by their feet and said, “It’s not concern or advice, Tony. James is warning you cos he wants to make sure they can dig a grave before the weather changes and the ground freezes. Practical, you know.”  
  
“Pietro.” Wanda flicked her brother on the head as she came to gather the drying sheets on another line. “No one wants you and your terrible humour here, go away and be useful. We have too much to do today for you to be chattering like this, filling Antonio’s head with morbid thoughts. Go away.”  
  
“Well he’s not wrong.” James interjected. “It  _is_ easier to dig a grave before the ground gets cold.”  
  
Wanda didn’t hesitate to flick him on the ear as well, startling a laugh out of the big soldier when she snapped, “You shut up and go away too, then.”  
  
And to Tony, “Antonio, these boys are all talk and no truth. No one will be digging a grave this winter.” she paused to fold a sheet and added, “Tis much simpler to just let the river carry you off and let someone else find the body in the spring, hm?”  
  
“ _Dio mio_ , this family!” Tony put up his hands and backed away to find more blankets to fold as both Wanda and Pietro burst into laughter.  
  
“My loves, are you you scaring Antonio off? Shame on you, we need him for chores!” Natalia came over with Samuel and Ronin in tow, the men holding hands in a gesture so casual and wholly unexpected that Tony actually stopped mid fold and stared.  
  
It wasn’t surprising to see Samuel and Ronin being affectionate, it was only to be expected from two men who loved the same woman, but Tony had never seen  _this_ , had never seem them holding hands and so obviously in love with  _each other_ and more than that….he had never once seen two men  _ever_ be so casually intimate, not in public, not in private.  
  
 _Tiberius and I were never so sweet._  
  
The thought was unexpected, intrusive and unwanted and nearly shocking in the wave of new  _grief_ it carried.

Tony hadn’t thought about Tiberius in weeks, hadn’t even thought of  _home_ in weeks and now his stomach twisted in bitterness as he realized that even in his and Ty’s most private moments, even wrapped around each other and panting, arching into each other’s bodies and plundering each other’s mouths– even  _then_ their touches had never been anything  _close_ to as easily intimate as Samuel and Ronin were simply walking with their fingers linked. 

 _Disgust_ , sharp and acidic filled Tony’s mouth and he dropped the blanket on a bench and nearly ran into the house. Natalia called after him in concern, but Tony ignored her, bolting up the stairs to his own room and closing the door so he could retch into his wash basin.  
  
“Antonio.” Tony was still throwing up minutes later when Natalia knocked on his bedroom door. “Antonio my love,  _v chem delo_? What happened? Did the scent of the soap make you sick?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Tony swished his mouth out and spat into the basin. “Leave me alone.”  
  
“Antonio–”  
  
“Leave me alone!” The ceramic pitcher shattered against the wall, shards scattering over the thick carpet and splintering into the furniture. “Just– just leave me alone.”  
  
******************  
  
After a sleepless night, Tony was out of his bed and downstairs the same time he always was, draining his coffee and putting on his gloves to get a start on the horses and not saying a single word to anyone.  
  
“What happened to him yesterday?” Pietro chewed on a piece of ham, watching Tony stalk across the yard through the window. “For a day spent doing women’s work–” outraged shouting from both Wanda and Natalia, bursts of angry Russian and Sokovian, and Pietro laughed for several moments, obviously delighted at having them react exactly as he’d thought.  
  
“For a day spent washing blankets and sheets–” he amended, hands up placatingly when Natalia brandished a spoon like she just may smack him with it. “– I thought we all got along just fine. James managed not to snarl at anyone and Ronin didn’t push Samuel into a bucket of suds–” Ronin grinned when Samuel shoved at him. “–so why is Tony so angry this morning?”  
  
“I think we need to remember that while  _we_ have lived this life for years now, Antonio found himself here under less–” Natalia gestured vaguely. “–less  _willing_ circumstances? And even though he’s chosen to stay with us, it doesn’t mean that it’s easy for him or that certain things–” a meaningful glance towards Ronin and Samuel. “–aren’t difficult for him to adjust to.”  
  
“But he chose to stay, so he should be attempting to adjust.” Pietro said stubbornly. “And why is Ronin and Samuel an issue? Is it the–” he circled his face in mention to Sam’s skin color. “Is that the problem?”  
  
“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed and pushed her brother away. “Of course Antonio doesn’t have an issue with Samuel. It’s probably the way Ronin and Samuel love each other and Talia. He’s probably never seen anything like it. In Brescia marriages are probably still arranged and children promised off as infants.”  
  
“I’m sure it’s not quite that terrible.” Natalia smiled over at the girl. “But you aren’t wrong. Antonio has probably never seen a relationship like ours, though I think he might be more started by how open our love is. The only thing the nobility believes in showing openly is  _scorn_. 

“You sound bitter, my love.” Samuel commented and Natalia snorted, “I wonder why that would be.” 

“Do you think…” Wanda tapped at her bottom lip thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully. “Do you think it hurts Antonio to see you love so freely when his heart is broken? I can’t imagine loving after being hurt like he was.” 

The kitchen was quiet and Wanda flushed. “I do not know anything of love, forgive me for speaking out.” 

“You know more about love than you think.” Natalia soothed her. “But we will never know for sure, since Antonio is unlikely to share. And he’d probably be embarrassed to know we are gossiping about him at breakfast. Another persons broken heart is not ours to speculate on.” 

“I will  _never_ let a broken heart ruin my life.” Pietro decided out loud and Ronin threw a napkin at his face, rolling his eyes and signing,  _young_ and then  _stupid_. “I’m serious! Love turns you guys into fools! I’m not ever doing that!” 

“It happens to all of us, son. Whether we want it to or not. And one day you’ll learn just how awful a broken heart can be.” Samuel agreed. “You’ll get drunk and stupid, cry an awful lot, do stupid things to work out your anger…. just wait.” 

“No.” Pietro said stubbornly. “I refuse.” 

“He  _refuses_!” Samuel almost howled in disbelief and Ronin shouted something in agreement. The kitchen dissolved into laughter, the concern over Tony pushed to the side by easy mirth and the warmth of  _family_ and lost in the moment together, no one noticed when James came by the door and stopped to watch, a hint of a smile on his mouth before he moved on to get to morning chores. 

_It was good to see his family laughing again, even if he wasn’t part of it._

******************  
In the barn, Tony patted the flanks of the massive grey that was James’s war stallion and moved the horse to the side so he could get to the mess in the bottom of the stall, making quick work of the soiled hay and scattered feed and shoving it out the door so he could dispose of it later on.  
  
The horse butted at Tony’s chest gently, then huffed at his ear, nickering and bobbing his head until Tony gave in and reached for a carrot from the bin on the wall.  
  
“I thought war horses were supposed to be fierce.” Tony said into the morning quiet, rubbing the velvety nose with a reluctant smile. “The ones in Italia would sooner take my fingers off than take a snack, and I thought Russians would be even meaner, but I suppose that isn’t true on all counts is it?”  
  
Of course Zima didn’t answer, and Tony took a moment to lean into the broad side, flattening his palms against the warmth and closing his eyes.  
  
He was exhausted this morning. Sleep had avoided him all night, his traitorous mind calling up instance after instance with Ty, trying to convince himself that there had been warmth and sweetness and even a  _hint_ of the love that was so obviously present between Natalia and her men, between Ronin and Samuel.  
  
Nearly a year he and Tiberius had continued their affair, kept everything a secret and met only behind closed doors, only at Ty’s country home or at a hotel, only on Ty’s schedule and only at Ty’s whim, never when Tony asked. And even after racking his brain for  _hours_ as the moon rose and the stars came out, Tony couldn’t think of a single time Tiberius had looked at him with even a fraction of the affection he saw between Talia and her loves every day.  
  
Not even after Tony had learned exactly how to touch Ty, not when he could bring his lover to pleasure and back with nothing more than his lips, not when Ty had come to him angry and frustrated with a business affair gone sideways and Tony had done everything Ty had asked that night, hadn’t even complained about the bruises or being sore the next morning.  
  
Ty had never looked at him with anything other than  _lust_ and the realization split Tony from the inside his out, re-breaking his heart and stoking the anger that had never quite gone away.  
  
It was torture. Self inflicted, unnecessary and familiar  _torture_ and Tony couldn’t seem to make himself stop.  
  
Natalia made it seem as if being around her family and this life would heal Tony from his heartbreak, would make him miss home less and yet every day he spent at the manor house made Tony feel  _worse_ , like he was suffocating under the happiness present everywhere he turned.  
  
Sometimes Tony forgot– when James caught him in the hall with a touch at his side, or when Natalia kissed his cheek when he handed her coffee or when the twins had each other and everyone else screaming with laughter at their antics– but forgetting always seemed to make the  _remembering_ worse and then Tony ended up like this, miserable and sulking and unable to shake his depression.  
  
Maria would scold him for wallowing, would tell him to go to the sea and spend a week at the shore to have a cry, then come home with his chin held high like a well raised nobleman. Howard would tell him to find a  _puttana_ to ease his mood, as if a tumble about with a whore could heal a broken heart.  
  
But here at the manor house, even with the chores and the work and the newness of the thrill between he and James, sometimes Tony still felt as if he were slipping, falling, grasping at straws and strings to try and save himself from the misery that seemed to shadow his every step.  
  
Some days Tony was alright, some days he didn’t have an awful moment at all.  
  
And some days he was reminded of it at random, forced to realize at inopportune times just how empty his life had been, and as the sun had risen this morning, Tony had closed his eyes and wondered how in the hell he had been so weak to confuse lust for love, to let his heart break over a relationship that ha been so obviously empty.  
  
“ _Christo_ , it is madness feeling this way.” He murmured into Zima’s neck. “To be in a place like this when I grew up in a castle, mucking stalls for horses I haven’t even been able to ride. To be jealous of a spy because she has the love of two men when I never managed the love of even one. It’s madness,  _sono pazzo_ , and I am miserable and I am lost and I–I–”  
  
Tony shook his head, let the words fail. No use whining to an animal, no use whining at all. There were chores to do and projects to help with and he still had that rifle in his room to work on if he wasn’t too tired tonight.  
  
 _No use whining._  
  
Tony went back to mucking out the stall, scratching behind the stallions ears one last time before moving on to the next stall, and then the one after that.  
  
By the time Ronin, Samuel and Pietro came in to gather supplies to continue work on the fence at the far side of the pasture, Tony had erased any sign of melancholy from his features, his mask firmly in place so he could even return a smile from Samuel.  
  
And when James came into the barn later that morning, he paused at the foot of the ladder to the loft, staring up at where Tony was pitching hay into the stalls below.  
  
“Tony.” he said after a moment, and when Tony looked over the edge, James continued, “I have to ride and check the perimeter today. You haven’t seen the borders of our land yet so you need to come with me.”  
  
“That’s fine.” Tony’s expression never changed, his tone even. “Let me know when you’re ready to saddle up.”  
  
James didn’t tell Tony he’d been in the stalls that morning, that he’d come in to the brush the horses and was only two stalls over when Tony had started to talk about being miserable, about being lost, about being jealous because someone else was loved and he was not.  
  
James was not a compassionate man, not a sympathetic man, but he understood  _loss_ from a place deep in his soul, understood misery and loneliness in a way that made bile rise in his throat and his stomach clench and he understood how  _suffocating_ someone else’s happiness could be when a heart was broken over something unfair.  
  
But he didn’t tell Tony he’d been in the stables this morning, and instead he said, “After dinner.” and left without another word.  
  
*******************  
  
James came for Tony as the sun was beginning to set, inclining his head out the door so Tony would follow him to the stables.  
  
“We’ll make the furthest edge of the property before the sun goes down.” James hefted the heavy saddle up and over Zima’s back and cinched it beneath the stallions belly. “If we lose the light, the horses know the way home in the dark, they know to avoid the river and edge of the gorge.  
  
“I wasn’t particularly worried.” Tony answered, coaxing a soft bit into his gelding’s mouth and clicking his tongue soothingly as he fit the bridle over the horses nose. “Shall we?”  
  
They rode in silence for the most part, goading the horses into an easy trot with James only speaking to point out specific landmarks or to make a note of dead trees for firewood, of the fences that needed patched. A patch of trees were scraped of bark and he mentioned needing to bring down an elk or two to fill their meat stores for the winter, a flock of geese alongside the water that could be hunted as well. .  
  
Tony didn’t have anything to say at all to James’s quiet comments, his back straight and eyes forward as he let the gelding follow along behind Zima, letting the cooling evening air clear his mind and settle his soul.  
  
There was something very cathartic about riding a horse, about feeling the warmth and the power of the animal beneath him, having to trust the gelding to know the way, to not toss him off and stray from the path. The horse was mellow and sweet, but just by virtue of its size, Tony would lose control immediately if it decided to go its own way and with only a soft bit in the gelding’s mouth, Tony didn’t have near as much direction as he normally would.  
  
But it was very nearly therapy to sit back and just  _trust_ , even if the trust was only that between a rider and a mount. After Tiberius, Tony had made a decision –either conscious or not–to never trust again and he’d forgotten how much of a relief it could be to  _let go_. 

So when the horse side stepped a patch of rocks with no direction at all, when it broke into a gallop long enough to crest a small hill with no urging from Tony, he trusted a little more, and let the reins fall lax in his hands, rolling through the steps and allowing his body to meld fluid with the gait.  
  
The land surrounding the manor really was beautiful. The hills rising in the distance were cast in purple and blue shadows as the sun sank below the horizon, and the river off to the left wound through the trees, visible only occasionally as bright flashes of blue. The house disappeared behind a second rise as they dipped into a low valley and then James brought the horses right up to the river, changing their ride to follow the curve of the river banks.  
  
James slowed Zima until Tony was riding alongside him, and didn’t look over when he said, “The weather is changing quickly and if you are unhappy here, you need to leave before the ice sets in. The closest railroad is Kiev and most winters we cannot reach the city at all, and on the off chance we  _could_ , there is always a chance the engines didn’t make it through the mountains. If you are here when the river starts to ice, you are too late to leave and you’ll have to stay all winter.”  
  
“I’m not leaving.” Tony didn’t even hesitate to answer and the corner of James’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “The river can ice when it wants to.”  
  
“You enjoy it here.”  
  
“No.” Another quick answer, but Tony immediately shook his head and corrected himself. “This is not the life I wanted, not the life I expected, so no, I don’t enjoy it. However, the manor and Sokovia and being here with Natalia is better than the life I left behind, so unless I am forced out the door, I will be staying.”  
  
“And why is this life better than the one you left in Italia?”  
  
“You don’t have to pretend like you care about that sort of thing.” Tony sent the soldier a sidelong glance. “No sense in pretending to be interested in my story beyond the bare facts. Everyone knows I am here because Natalia offered me an escape from my trouble. I left because of a scandal.”  
  
“You left because of a broken heart.” James countered. “Isn’t that what you told me? A lover that lied to you, a wife that shouldn’t have been expecting?”  
  
“Exactly.” Tony’s fingers tightened to nearly white around the reins. “A scandal.”  
  
“ _Hm_.”  
  
Neither man spoke again until the horses had picked their way back across the pastures and to the manor home, heading straight for the stables and stalls. The yard was lit with lamps from the house and the wind was turning cold, but inside the stable it was close quarters, dark and warm as Tony and James wiped the horses down and gave them food and fresh water.  
  
James stood in the doorway of the stable to light his cigarette, his broad frame backlit with the lamps and features cast in shadows, looking bold and  _dangerous_ and Tony paused right next to him, tipping his head back and parting his lips, waiting for James to give him the cigarette.  
  
And James didn’t disappoint, holding Tony’s chin and sweeping his thumb along a stubbled jaw as Tony inhaled, taking the cigarette back as Tony exhaled, not bothering to disguise the way his eyes dropped to Tony’s mouth to watch.  
  
“The man you left behind.” James blew a plume of smoke over Tony’s head before speaking again. “You loved him very much.”  
  
“I suppose I did.” Tony said quietly.  
  
“And your heart?” James offered him the cigarette again and Tony shook his head. “It’s still terribly broken?”  
  
“It would seem so.” Came the answer, Tony narrowing his eyes warily. “Why?”  
  
He jumped when James circled his wrist with one big hand, lifting it to the light so he could see the Stark family crest inked on the soft skin, pressing his fingers to feel Tony’s pulse.  
  
It was startlingly intimate, James measuring the beat of Tony’s heart and holding him so easily, their bodies separated by mere inches in the doorway, eyes bold in their perusal of the other’s form.  
  
And then James lifted his other hand as if to touch Tony’s hair but at the last second let his fingers fall away so they lightly swept first Tony’s cheek, then the line of his jaw and fell further to the dip of his throat, his palm resting at the back of Tony’s neck to hold him close and to hold him still.  
  
He bent forward until their noses brushed and their mouths nearly touched, and when Tony’s lips parted over a shaky,  _vulnerable_ sigh, James leaned even closer so his breath puffed warm at Tony’s cheek and ear.  
  
“Antonio Carbonell Stark.” He rumbled, and Tony’s knees went weak. “ _Nobile dei marchesi di Brescia_ , I am not interested in your heart.”  
  
“That’s fine.” Tony flexed the wrist held in James’s grasp, reached to dust his fingers through the loose strands of James’s hair, and the soldier turned his nose into Tony’s palm, the pale eyes falling shut. “I’m not interested in giving it away.”  
  
James’s sigh was nearly a moan and Tony swayed forward before he could stop himself, his earlier angst about Ty forgotten, his misery put aside, his determination to keep himself  _away_ crumbling before the heat sparking between their bodies.  
  
And just before their mouths met, a scant inch before James’s lips would have collided with Tony’s own–  
  
“Antonio? James? Come inside!” Natalia called from the doorway. “Wanda made dessert and Ronin will eat it all if you don’t hurry!”  
  
–James pulled away, let go of Tony’s wrist and backed away with nothing more than a half smile, raking his fingers through his hair and adjusting himself in his pants before turning on his heel and striding towards the house.  
  
Tony stayed there for another moment, trying to catch his breath and steady his heart, feeling rather like he’d had a close encounter with a wolf and had somehow escaped unscathed.  
  
The problem being of course, Tony wasn’t sure he  _wanted_ to be unscathed.  
  
No, he wasn’t sure about that at all.  
  
***********************  
  
“Be careful with him.” Natalia was waiting in the hall when James came to bed after dessert, after he’d left Tony in the kitchen with nothing more than a last, lingering look before turning for the stairs.  
  
“Be careful with who?” James asked, though he knew perfectly well who Talia meant. “Zima? If the stallion can survive war with me on his back, he will survive a trek around the grounds, don’t you think?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She chewed at her thumbnail worriedly. “James, we all see how you land Antonio look at each other. The shadows in his heart spill into his eyes, just like the ice in your heart ruins your touch and if you aren’t careful you will hurt each other.”  
  
“They don’t call me the Winter Soldier because I’m gentle.”  
  
“No, I suppose they don’t.” Talia was sad and James looked away so he didn’t have to see it. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to be cruel, either. His heart is as broken as yours, you know.”  
  
“Good night.” James shut the door to his bedroom firmly, blocking out his sister’s words and her well meaning but unnecessary concern.  
  
 _They didn’t call him the Winter Soldier because he was gentle._  
  
“He’s lying.” Ronin said when Natalia came back to the bedroom, shedding her robe and climbing into bed between them.  
  
“James is?” she asked in surprise. “Why do you say that?”  
  
Ronin and Samuel exchanged a look and it was Samuel who answered, “Because James looks at Tony the same way he used to look at Steve.”


	9. Chapter 9

“ _Byt’ ostorozhen_ , Antonio.” Wanda put a hand at Tony’s hip to move him aside from the wash basin. “Staring so hard will strain your eyes and turn you blind and then what good would you be to us? At least go and stand closer so you don’t have to stare quite so hard, hm?“  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Tony turned slowly and blinked at her a few times. “I  _must_ have misheard you.”  
  
“You don’t have to beg my pardon.” The girl waved him off teasingly. “We aren’t as formal here as you are back in Italia. And I know you heard me perfectly well or you wouldn’t be acting so offended by it. I’m onto you, Antonio. When you are at ease, you act more like Samuel and Ronin and when you are trying to hide something, you act every inch the nobleman.”  
  
Tony blinked a few more times and Wanda’s grin stretched wider. “And if you are still going to pretend you weren’t staring, perhaps you do it from your bedroom window instead of standing here  _gawking_ in the kitchen.”  
  
“I wasn’t–” Tony lifted his chin as if the imperious posture would add truth to his words, flushing as he realized he was doing exactly what Wanda had pointed out. “I wasn’t staring.”  
  
“No, of course you weren’t.” Wanda nodded as she washed up a few cups and plates from her and Pietro’s breakfast. “There is so much to see out this window, so much beauty in the barren trees, in the empty pastures, in the hills in the distance.  _Of course_  you were too busy idly admiring those things to notice the man chopping wood there in the courtyard.”  
  
“Of course I was.” Tony said tightly, flushing even darker red when the pretty girl smirked at him. “That’s perfectly reasonable. Why would I be staring at someone doing chores? How boring.“  
  
“Mmm.” Wanda looked pointedly out the window towards the wood pile, where James had stripped down to just low slung trousers and was swinging a heavy axe in smooth, even strokes, splitting log after log without ever breaking rhythm. “For the life of me, I can’t possibly imagine. You’re right, positively boring." 

  
Her smile was knowing, her wink entirely saucy and Tony cursed under his breath.  
  
“You should know, Antonio.” Wanda continued. “He stares as much at you as you do at him. Neither of you are as subtle as you think and everyone has decided that you should simply talk about it instead of making eyes at each other all day.”  
  
“He… he stares at me?”  
  
“As much as you stare at him.” she confirmed, then re-emphasized. “ _Neither_ of you are subtle.”  
  
The moment the redhead moved towards the pantry Tony stole another look out the window, just in time to see James piling logs into his arms to carry over into the wood shed. The soldiers muscles were  _straining_ , flexing tight in the afternoon sun, sweat dripping down his chest and in rivulets down his back and when he dropped the logs and shook his hair back from his face—  
  
Heat  _rippled_ through Tony’s body, centering low and hot and he jerked away from the window, muttering a string of Italian curses as he all but ran from the kitchen, nearly bowling over a surprised Natalia as he went. “ _Devo essere pazzo. Cosa sto pensado. No no no–cazzo madre di dio–_ ”  
  
“What’s the matter with Antonio?” Natalia put a hand to her hair to adjust the disrupted style. “What did he see in the kitchen to irritate him so much?”  
  
“I don’t think he’s irritated.” Wanda inclined her head towards the open door. “So much as he is  _bothered_ , do you know?”  
  
“Bothered.” Natalia poked her head out to see what Tony had been so  _bothered_ by and tried to smother a laugh into her hand. “Ah, I see. Can’t blame the man, I suppose. There is something  _very_  good about watching an attractive man chop wood.”  
  
“We all know how you feel about that particular chore, Talia.” Wanda informed her with a wicked smile. “The whole reason  _James_ has to chop wood today is because Ronin was out there yesterday and you didn’t let him work for more than two minutes before dragging him out to the woodshed!”  
  
“In my defense–” Natalia raised her voice when Wanda burst out laughing. “In my defense! Ronin might very well be a father figure to you and Pietro but I’ve never met anyone with arms  _that_ magnificent. I can’t be blamed for my actions, not when the opportunity was there.”  
  
“Spoken like a true spy.” Wanda mocked. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”  
  
“And  _that’s_ why I’m an excellent spy.”  
  
“You are a terrible spy.” James walked into their conversation, taking a rag from the laundry pile and wiping carelessly along his face and down his chest before tossing it away again. “Which is why you aren’t doing that sort of thing anymore, are you Natalia?”  
  
“Hm?” Natalia feigned innocence, her green eyes wide. “What sort of thing don’t I do anymore?”  
  
“He must mean spying, because you certainly haven’t stopped desecrating our wood–” Wanda shut up when Natalia stepped backwards and dug her heel into her toe, squealing in discomfort. “ _Ouch_!”  
  
“Don’t say things you’ll regret and you won’t get hurt.” Natalia smiled up at the girl sweetly and Wanda flicked her on the nose before stomping out the door.  
  
“What have you been up to in the woodshed, sister?” James asked, but then grimaced and shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me.”  
  
“Probably for the best.” she agreed, and went to find him a glass of water. “And what do you mean I don’t do that sort of thing anymore? Are you forcefully ending my spy career, James? That seems an ambitious sort of demand, especially coming from a brother I’ve seen more in the past three months than I’ve seen in the past six years.”  
  
“You don’t want to spy anymore.” James stated bluntly, ignoring Natalia’s open mouthed expression of surprise. “I’m not stupid, Natalia. You never wanted this life and I know it. You want to be here, playing house with Ronin and Samuel and mother hen to the twins, and if all goes well in the next eight months or so, you’ll be able to do that without me calling them away to the fight.”  
  
“….what does that mean?” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “Rumlow told me the Resistance is faltering, that time and again your plans are disrupted and we are losing men. What could happen in the next eight months to turn the tide?”  
  
“Rumlow should not be telling you anything at all.” James scowled, fist clenching. “There is too much talking being done among the ranks. My plans wouldn’t be disrupted and I wouldn’t be burying good men if I knew who the leak–”  
  
“You suspect a spy in your camp?” Natalia’s voice rose. “How is that possible? Those men have given up  _everything_ to fight the revolution, why would they turn their back on it and betray you and the others?”  
  
“All things are possible in war, Natalia.”  
  
“If you find a spy, I will kill him.” Natalia swore, then swore again when James only raised his eyebrows in her direction, looking less than impressed. “The bastard is putting my love’s lives on the line by sharing information and I will not stand for it! Think what you want about my skill set brother, but be assured I’ve killed men for far less than threatening Samuel and Ronin.”  
  
“You only care for Samuel and Ronin’s lives?” James challenged. “No tears or worry for your only brother?”  
  
“Perhaps a stray tear or two if you weren’t such an ass.” she retorted, then changed the subject. “Go and get dressed, don’t stand here sweating and dirty in my kitchen. Go back to living with the soldiers if you’re going to be a pig. I was having a nice morning until you came in here with talk of the revolution, go on.“  
  
“You have a snake like a tongue.” Simply because he towered over her by at least a foot, James ran his hand through Natalia’s hair, loosening the clip and destroying the curls. Predictably, Natalia  _shrieked_ , giving James a swift kick in the shin and pushing him away. "Ouch! Damn you, Talia!”

“I haven’t missed you at all!” she huffed, trying and failing to redo her hair. “Go bother someone else! Get out!” 

James was in unusually high spirits after being in the sunshine all morning. The chore of chopping wood was repetitive but enjoyable, and being able to tease his sister was something James hadn’t done in ages. Not to mention he had looked up from his chore and seen Tony blatantly  _staring_ , which had pleased James in the sort of way he thought wouldn’t even happen again. 

Today was a good day and James whistled to himself as he jogged up the stairs to his room. He’d spent the past several weeks working every single day to prepare the manor house for the upcoming winter and just this morning Samuel had commented that this was the first season in many that he wasn’t worried about what the weather would do to the house. 

The Falconers lodge across the courtyard had been boarded up for the winter months, the windows sealed and seams filled to keep the snow away, the floor cleared and swept and furniture pushed in front of the only door. Samuel and Ronin had lived there for appearances sake while Natalia was still wearing her widow’s black. It would do no good for soldiers to come by to question Natalia about her  _dearly departed husband_  and find not only a Black man but also an American man of questionable roots living in the main house with her and the twins, so they had spent the better part of two years living full time in the lodge.  
  
Now that James was home and Natalia had dragged Antonio into their story, it didn’t matter  _where_ they stayed. Samuel and Ronin’s presence could be explained away as wanting to have bodyguards present, as friends who were traveling with James, even as servants who lived in the main house now that the cold was coming.  
  
There were other reasons to be sure the Falconers lodge was weather sealed and protected as well, other reasons that had everything to do with James’s position in the revolution and the tunnel beneath the property that went one way to the pantry in the main house and the other way to the stables, but that was a thought for another day.  
  
The stables themselves had been taken care of recently as well, the roof patched and any cracks in the walls filled, the stalls deep cleaned and fresh dirt packed for the horses, the latch and bar of the door replaced to keep the wolves away.  
  
And with James’s efforts today, the wood shed was filled nearly to bursting and there was a row several feet high of logs and kindling just outside the stone walls of the kitchen for the days of snow where they couldn’t make the trek to the shed.  
  
A run for supplies was needed now, food for the house and the horses, necessities for the long months where going outside for chores would be difficult, and a trip to town would be impossible. He would accompany Ronin and Samuel hunting the next two weeks to gather as much meat as possible and then it would be time for the first winter storm to blow down from the hills and swamp their little valley.

And since James had no intention of actually staying the winter at the manor house, he had to make sure Natalia and the others would be prepared.  
  
He hadn’t said anything to the family yet about leaving, but he was certain Natalia knew he would be gone soon. James couldn’t stay the winter here. Not in the house where Ma had died, where Natalia’s father had been so cruel and  _certainly_ not with a dark eyed Italian sleeping in James’s old room and presenting far too much temptation.  
  
No, staying the winter wouldn’t be a good idea at all, so after everything was sorted and the family ready for the winter, James would take Zima and leave. He would ask Samuel and Ronin to stay here with Natalia and the twins, he would promise Pietro to come back for him in the spring, and he would tell Tony–

–he would tell Tony–  
  
“Ow!” Tony had the unnerving habit of appearing any time James spent too much time thinking about him, and they collided  _hard_ as Tony came out of his bedroom unexpectedly. The smaller brunette pitched right towards the floor and James scrambled to catch him, muttering a quick, “Sorry Tony, I didn’t see you.” 

“Apparently.” Tony laughed a little, and James’s hand tightened on Tony’s arm   
 as he took in the disheveled hair, the way Tony’s lips were red and swollen, the blush lingering on his cheeks and the way the whiskey warm eyes were hazy but rapidly heating the longer James held him. 

Tony looked sleepy and he looked  _soft_ and he looked as if he’d had a tumble with a lover and—  
  
“Were you sleeping this late?” James tucked a curl behind Tony’s ear before he could help himself, trying to sound playful but knowing the words came out  _longing_ as he continued, “You look as if you’ve been in bed all morning, but I’m sure I saw you at the kitchen window earlier.” 

“You might have seen me.” Tony’s blush darkened. “I haven’t been in bed all morning, I was just– just resting. Just now. Resting, but not  _sleeping_.”   
  
Oh.  
  
 _Oh_.  
  
James failed miserably at schooling his expression, at tamping the sudden  _heat_ that flared through his body and he knew it shone through in his eyes when Tony gasped quietly, swayed forward enough that his hand landed at James’s bare chest.  
  
“I’ve been out choring, stacking wood and you’ve been in here… _not_  sleeping?” James let his voice deepen just so Tony would make that needy sound again. “I thought I told you that you had to be useful if you wanted to stay at the manor.”  
  
“And I thought I was entitled to a moment to myself to  _rest_.” Tony emphasized the word, his chin tipped up and eyes wide and any other time with any other person James might have thought it was a purposeful attempt to look innocent, a  _tease_ , coy flutter of lashes with no intent to carry through on anything at all.  
  
But there was nothing teasing about the way Tony’s breath caught or the way his fingers dug into James’s chest to test the give of muscle and there was nothing teasing about the way James asked, “So did you enjoy your moment to yourself?” or the way Tony murmured, “I think I’d rather have watched you chopping wood.”  
  
James muttered something in Sokovian, no doubt a curse and Tony breathed an answer in Italian. Neither knew what the other had said but the meaning and intention was crystal clear and James jolted forward to do something about that smirk on Tony’s gorgeous lips–  
  
“James!” Natalia, from down the stairs and this time James didn’t so much as mutter a curse so much as he  _spat_ it, yanking away from Tony and dragging his hands through his hair. “James! Tell Antonio to come downstairs!”  
  
“I am not your errand boy!” James shouted back at her. “Tell him yourself!”  
  
Natalia shouted something that was  _definitely_ vulgar and James returned it with an accompanying hand motion, and when he turned back to Tony, the brunette had a hand over his mouth trying to hide a smile.  
  
“It’s not funny.” James said evenly and Tony’s eyes sparkled as he replied, “I do not have siblings. Tell me, is it normal to say such terrible things to each other over a simple request?”  
  
“She has said much worse to me over far less.” James informed him and Tony looked away to laugh. “Either way, it would seem you are wanted.”  
  
“Well.” Tony’s gaze swept over James’s body, lingering below his waist. “It would certainly seem so, wouldn’t it?”  
  
James curled his fingers in an unmistakable  _come hither_  motion and Tony’s eyes snapped back up, holding James’s gaze as they moved past each other towards their respective destinations.  
  
“Since Natalia has an uncanny knack for interrupting these moments perhaps tonight you will come with me when I check the perimeter.” James said as he opened the door to his room. "At least the dark will afford us some privacy.”

Tony could barely speak over the butterflies in his stomach to answer, “Perhaps I will.”  
**************  
**************  
  
A trip for supplies was deemed necessary by lunch when Natalia and Wanda realized there wasn’t even enough flour to bake a loaf of bread for that evening’s supper.  
  
“I didn’t have time to buy supplies in Kiev.” Natalia mourned, staring at nearly bare pantry. “And now we will need so much with both Antonio and James home, what was I thinking waiting so long? It will be so expensive, and I cannot spend too much money all at once or it will look suspicious. We’ll have to make two trips.” She sighed in frustration. “How could I be so careless?”   
  
“What is suspicious about buying a large amount of food and supplies for your family?” Pietro was scratching at the edge of the table with his knife. “Even spies need to eat, hm?”  
  
“She’s not a spy anymore.” James smacked the knife out of Pietro’s hand and folded it away into his own pocket. “But she used to be, so anything out of the norm is considered suspicious. Purchasing a large amount of supplies could mean she is supporting the resistance, it could mean she is hiding people at her house, it could mean she is preparing to leave the country again. Everything Natalia does right now is cause for alarm as far as the Tsaris concerned.”  
  
“So we should go in two groups.” Wanda sat with her tea. “Pietro and I first, then Natalia and Antonio. That way we are both escorted and safe, but neither of us are buying an alarming amount at a time?”  
  
“We also need ammunition.” Ronin pointed out and Samuel added, “Nails and a new axehead. Some feed for the horses since the cold weather will be blowing in soon.”  
  
“Too much for us to get alone then.” Natalia tapped at her lip. “We might have to use the coin in the wall safe.”   
  
“We aren’t using the money in the safe.” James shook his head. “That is for an emergency and this is  _not_ an emergency.”  
  
“James, I don’t have any more flour in the house.” Natalia spread her hands around the empty kitchen. “We need at least three months worth of food  _alone_ and that doesn’t include what you men need for the outside. The blankets are threadbare and with you and Antonio here there will be less to go around anyway!”  
  
“No.” James didn’t budge. “The gold in the safe is not to be used until absolutely necessary. I have some money as well, the rest we will put on credit.”  
  
“No store will extend credit to the daughter of a traitor.” Natalia’s lips twisted bitterly. “Whether they believe I am a steadfast citizen loyal to the Motherland or not, they wouldn’t accept business from a family of traitors.”  
  
“Imagine that.“ James’s laugh was ugly. "Even from beyond the grave your father manages to find ways to ruin our lives.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Natalia sliced her hand through the air in a  _cease_ motion. “Do not blame Da for this. It’s my own foolish lack of foresight. It was more expensive than I thought to get to Italy and then Kiev and–” her breath hitched then, and despite his ire over Natalia’s father, James’s eyes flickered in concern when Samuel moved to put an arm around her shoulders. “I should have been better than this.”  
  
“Natalia.” Wanda squeezed at her hand. “No one blames you for not stocking the pantry. What a silly thing to worry about after all you’ve been through in the last year. Things are different than they have ever been and we are all trying to find our footing. No one blames you,  _dorogoy_. No one.”  
  
“ _I_  blame me.” Natalia straightened up and cleared her throat. “Life changes and we adapt, It wasn’t right of me to put the entire family in jeopardy because I’m having a hard time finding my footing lately.”  
  
“Sweetheart.” Samuel pressed a kiss to her temple. “The entire family isn’t in jeopardy, we just need some supplies. Stop being so hard on yourself.”  
  
James watched the exchange silently, his heart twisting over the emotion on Natalia’s face. Even as a child she had been nearly stoic, her smiles measured and her laughter controlled and as she’d grown, Talia had fallen so easily into the role of a spy that James had almost forgotten what a real smile looked like.  
  
But Natalia wasn’t stoic now, leaning into Samuel’s arms and listening to whatever sweetness he was whispering in her ear. Ronin was over her other shoulder stroking her hair and Natalia leaned up for a kiss, then reached to hold hands with the twins as well.  
  
And not for the first time, James felt guilty for leaving to go to America, guilty for leaving her alone with a father who married her off almost immediately to a tyrant, guilty for avoiding coming home even after returning to Sokovia.  
  
He should have been here for his sister instead of nursing his broken heart on the battlefield. Maybe then Natalia wouldn’t have had to cobble together a patchwork family with former soldiers running from their life in America, a pair of orphaned twins ruined by the revolution they now fought for and an Italian nobleman escaping scandal and heart break.  
  
James should have been  _here_.  
  
“Natalia–” he cleared his throat loudly and the hushed conversation stilled. “Natalia, if we can wait until next week I can free up more currency. I’ll go with you into town and whether the store wants to extend credit to a family of traitors or not, they  _will_ do so with me standing beside you.”  
  
“James, everyone knows how connected you are to the resistance.” Wanda  _tsked_ at him. “The Winter Soldier is well known in these parts, you cannot simply walk into a store and demand a line of credit, it would be worse than Natalia asking. There has to be another option.”  
  
“There is another option, of course.” Tony hadn’t spoken once during the entire conversation, and now six heads swiveled to his direction and the heavy purse he had retrieved from upstairs at some point during the argument.   
  
“There isn’t a merchant alive who would turn down a nobleman determined to buy most of his product.” Tony tossed the purse onto the table and a pile of coins and currency spilled out onto the surface. “And it helps of course, if the nobleman came along with a large amount of money and a staggeringly exaggerated accent that has the rather surprising effect of stunning people into doing whatever he wants.”   
  
“Antonio.” Natalia’s eyes went very wide at the sight of all the gold. “This isn’t necessary.”  
  
“Nonsense.” Tony winked at her. “There’s only two reasons a woman such as yourself would marry a man like me, and since it’s not for my bedroom prowess–“ Pietro nearly choked laughing and Tony shot him a  _look_. ”– it must be for my money. Take it.“  
  
“I–” Natalia flushed lightly. “No. We couldn’t.”  
  
“Talia.” Tony nudged the purse closer to her. “It isn’t doing me any good sitting there among my things. Please. Take it. If I’m staying here all winter, it’s the very least I can do.”    
  
Another moment passed and then Natalia clapped her hands, apparently having made up her mind. “Well then. Let’s make our lists and ready the wagon. James, we should leave tonight so I can shop in the morning and be home again by evening so we aren’t spending the night in an inn with a fully laden wagon. Wanda go upstairs and take stock of what we need-”  
  
Natalia’s voice faded into the background when Tony sat back down next to James, inclining his head to listen when the soldier muttered, “My plans for the evening did  _not_ include escorting my sister and the children to town for supplies.“  
  
“Hm.” Tony didn’t look away from Natalia, smiling as she nearly raced to the pantry to take inventory of the few items. “And what did your plans for the evening include?”  
  
“ _Signore_ Carbonell Stark, I’ve decided you aren’t half as innocent as those brown eyes would lead others to believe.” James replied evenly. “And since that seems to be the case, I suppose we should be done with games, yes?”  
  
Tony pursed his lips before answering, knowing full well where the conversation was leading and not altogether sure he was ready to put action to the thoughts that had been swirling through his mind and keeping him  _up_ at night.  
  
After all, it hadn’t been all that long since Ty, not really. And while James had been perfectly clear that he had no interest in Tony’s heart and Tony hadn’t been lying when he said he had no plan to give his heart away…he hadn’t been exactly honest either.  
  
The truth was, Tony had only ever been Ty, only ever given himself to a man that he was  _sure_ he loved and while the thought of James made him  _sweat_ , made him  _ache_ somewhere low in his core, Tony didn’t know if he was ready to do it all over again.

 _What if he wasn’t ready?_  
  
But James was looking at him now, pale eyes sparking and eyebrow raised expectantly and  _oh_ Tony couldn’t back down from that challenge.  
  
“I suppose that would be agreeable.” he finally said, his heart in his throat and stomach twisting nervously. “There’s no need for games. Perhaps when the day ends, the night will find us together.”  
  
James’s chair scraped as he pushed away from the table, his words for Tony’s ears only– “ _I’ll be waiting_.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holla for Winteriron finally doing something about that Unresolved Sexual Tension

They traveled to town with both the carriage and the wagon, Pietro driving the wagon with Ronin riding guard, Natalia tucked away inside the carriage wrapped in furs and Wanda on the top seat steering the horses. Sam was on one side talking Wanda through how to handle the carriage and praising her for learning so quickly, and Tony was keeping watch on the other side with his own mount.  
  
James had left the manor house almost immediately after he and Tony finished their quick conversation, scouting the road ahead to be sure everything was safe, then doubling back and accompanying everyone else away from the property, taking up the rear of the line to keep the wagon at a steady enough pace to reach town before nightfall.  
  
From this position he could see the way Pietro held the reins lazily in one hand so he could sign with the other since Ronin was riding with his good ear towards the woods. Ronin was laughing at whatever Pietro was trying to say, his smile easy but posture alert and James smiled to himself as well, knowing there wasn’t a single moment of Ronin’s life when he wasn’t ready to jump to the defense of the ones he loved.  
  
Samuel was the same, clearly flirting with Natalia through the windows of the carriage and grinning as she answered, but his rifle lay in front across the saddle, his hand resting on the stock, always at the ready even as he blew a kiss towards the carriage.  
  
Another man might have rolled his eyes, might have even been  _annoyed_  watching someone be so openly affectionate with his sister, but James couldn’t think of any other man– any other  _men_ , he amended as Ronin called something that had Natalia poking her head out the window and blowing him a kiss as well– he would trust to keep his family safe when he couldn’t be home.  
  
When he  _wouldn’t_  be home, rather. 

When he didn’t  _want_  to be home.

After Natalia’s father had been tried and found guilty of treason, James had returned to the manor for the first time in nearly five years and for the  _last_  time in nearly three, instructing Samuel and Ronin to move into the Falconers home and look after Natalia anytime she came to visit when her husband was away.  
  
He hadn’t expected his two closest friends to fall in love with his sister and he  _certainly_  hadn’t expected her to love them back. Natalia hated men– hated her father and her husband and there had been a  _very_ long time where James was sure she hated  _him_  as well. But when he’d come to the manor to retrieve Samuel and Ronin one spring and pull them back to the war, Natalia told him in no uncertain terms, “I love them. And if you let anything happen to either, I’ll never forgive you. Do you understand?”  
  
James hadn’t bothered to answer, but he had understood perfectly well, wheeling Zima about and leaving that day without his soldiers, and only sending for them on a short term basis as infrequently as he could manage. 

After Natalia’s husband had… _died_ … James had stopped sending for Ronin and Samuel altogether. They were distracted when they were away from Natalia for too long, and since  _distracted_ soldiers were  _dead_  soldiers, it made more sense for the two to be home at the manor.

And if James were being completely honest, he let Samuel and Ronin stay because he owed it to Natalia. He had failed her when they were children, had left when he should have stayed to protect her, had stayed away while Ivan sold Talia off to that bastard of a husband. 

James had  _failed_ his sister, and the least he could do was allow Talia to love as she wanted, to love as she deserved.  
  
“Natalia is asking for you.” James startled from his thoughts when Tony appeared beside him. “Something about needing rooms for the night.”  
  
James didn’t take his eyes off the carriage ahead until Sam dropped back and to the side to accommodate for Tony no longer being there to keep watch, and replied, “You should request three rooms. One for yourself and Natalia, one for the twins, and one for Samuel and Ronin. I’ll come in later and secure one for myself.”  
  
“Do we really need four rooms?” Tony frowned. “Even if you’re worried about being seen or attracting attention, we can request a room at the end of the hall, closest to the outside stairs and you can simply come up the back–”  
  
“Four rooms.” James repeated. “Natalia and the twins and Ronin in one, you and Samuel in the other. I will take a room alone, and keep an empty room between.”  
  
Tony was quiet a few seconds, mulling James’s decision over. “Natalia and the twins and Ronin in one because even though the twins are grown, Talia treats them like her children, and Ronin because he can only hear from the one side. More people in the room will compensate for that. Myself and Samuel because while I’ve proven myself capable with a weapon, Samuel is a better fighter.”  
  
James tipped his head in silent acknowledgment and Tony continued, “You want a room alone because if someone comes after you, it’s easier to dispatch them if you aren’t worried about hurting anyone else.”  
  
“And the empty room?”  
  
“A buffer.” Tony said quickly, almost  _too_ quickly, a quick grimace on his face before it smoothed way to nothing. “For the noise, whether it’s of a fight or–” another grimace and this time it lingered. “Anything else.”  
  
“Stayed many places where you needed a buffer, have you?” James asked, his tone steady and flat.  
  
“Always the same place.” Tony answered in a matching flat tone. “Always the same room for a buffer.”  
  
“…three rooms would be fine.” It was a rare moment when James put someone else’s wishes above his own, even more rare when he chose to ignore his own strictly followed precautions and personal guidelines to make someone else comfortable. But Tony had looked so  _miserable_ for a second, an obviously painful memory flitting across his features that James found himself speaking without thinking, wanting to say something to erase whatever it was that made Tony’s eyes flicker with shame and more than a hint of  _regret_. “Three rooms. We don’t need a fourth.”  
  
“No.” Tony shook his head. “Four rooms.”  
  
It took a moment for him to look over and meets James’s gaze, and by then his eyes were clear, sparking in the same sort of challenge they always were when the conversation steered this particular way. “One for a buffer.”  
  
James nodded and urged Zima into a faster pace. “One for a buffer, then.”  
  
*******************

The inn at the edge of town was well kept and tidy, boasting a large front area that doubled as a dining room for patrons and something of a bar for those just stopping for a bite to eat, and ten rooms upstairs available for rent. A little off the beaten path, it was exactly the sort of place their unorthodox family could hide away in for a night.   
  
Tony swept through the front door in a flurry of silk shirts and elegant trousers, long coat swirling about expensive boots and accent coming through  _thick_ as he spoke with the proprietor, charming the girl behind the desk with beguiling smiles and rakish tips of his head. Her husband didn’t crack a smile until Tony spread coins across the desk and then he was loudly welcoming the stranger to their inn as well, insisting on helping with any bags, offering to show Tony the rooms so he could pick which he wanted ahead of time.  
  
“I’ll need four.” Tony said then. “One for myself and my love,” he motioned over to Natalia and wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple. “One with two beds for the children and one for the men accompanying us.”  
  
“Oh,  _Signore_ Carbonell Stark.” the woman batted her lashes at Tony, despite the looming presence of her husband behind her and the way Natalia was hugging at Tony’s side. “That is only three rooms, I thought you needed four.”  
  
“One for a buffer between ourselves and the children.” Tony dropped his voice and closed one eye in a conspiratorial wink. “It isn’t often I take  _la mia bellissima moglie_  for a night away and we don’t want the  _bambinos_ hearing something ah…” he shrugged as if he couldn’t find the right word. “… _non appropriato,_  eh?”  
  
“Oh my.” the woman giggled and her husband clicked his tongue disapprovingly at her. “Of course, of course. We understand.”  
  
“My god, he’s good isn’t he?” Samuel elbowed Ronin and motioned towards the counter. “Posh brat. Look at him charming those people. If the wife bats her eye lashes any harder she’ll about take flight, don’t you think?”  
  
Ronin only frowned and Samuel elbowed him again. “What’s the matter? You don’t think it’s funny watching Tony change from making an outright ass of himself over James to practically convincing the husband there to join him in bed? Look at that smooth fucker, the husbands taking him upstairs himself. How is that the same man that can’t hardly walk a straight line–”  
  
“M’tired of never bein’ able to hold Talia like that.” Ronin interrupted and Samuel sent him an odd look.  
  
“We hold Talia better ways than–”  
  
“Not when people can see us.” Ronin interrupted again and Samuel’s features softened in understanding. “Want the whole world to know how much I love her.” Ronin’s gaze darted towards Samuel. “How much I love  _you_. Wasn’t all that long ago you and I had to live separate from the main house anyway, and now I hafta watch some nobleman hold the woman I love too? I don’t like it.”  
  
“It won’t always be like this.” Samuel put a hand at Ronin’s arm and led him back outside to the wagon. “After the war calms, maybe we can leave. Get away from the manor, out of Sokovia and Russia all together.”  
  
“The revolution won’t be over until the Winter Soldier wins.” Ronin muttered. “Or  _dies_. I dunno which of those days will come first.”  
  
“Maybe the solder will get tired of the bloodshed before either of those things.” Samuel hauled Natalia’s bag off the top of the carriage. “You know?”  
  
Ronin cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “You think because of Tony…”  
  
“I think James hasn’t looked at  _anyone_ the way he looks at Tony.” Another bag was tossed down. “Not since we stopped callin’ him  _Bucky_ anyway.”  
  
Ronin grunted something in agreement and they took the bags upstairs to put in the respective rooms.  
  
If Natalia was surprised when Ronin backed her into a dark corner and kissed her senseless, or when Samuel caught her up in his arms and dragged both her and Ronin into one of the rooms and locked the doors, she didn’t say anything at all, just laughed breathlessly and reminded both her loves to be  _quiet_ , that they weren’t at home and it would be highly suspicious if she was heard screaming pleasure from a room her ‘husband’ wasn’t in.  
  
As it was, Natalia’s ‘husband’ was downstairs with Wanda and Pietro, plying the innkeepers wife with gold to keep watered down ale coming for Pietro because it made him feel grown to be drinking alongside Tony. He kept requesting sweets for Wanda as well, and the girl positively  _beamed_ up at him every time. Wanda loved sweets but she was always the one making dessert for the family and Tony was more than willing to spend the money to treat her to a piece of cake she hadn’t had to make herself.

James didn’t even enter the inn until well past sunset and the moment he did, Tony’s entire body went on high alert. It was almost  _laughable_ how in tune he was to every movement the soldier made, and he let the barest flicker of a smile through because he remembered feeling the same way for Ty once. Prickly and self aware, skin too tight and clothes too bulky, over heated and wanting to shiver all at the same time.  
  
James didn’t look in their direction as he walked boldly through the middle of the room, knowing good and well the other patrons of the inn would scatter. James looked dangerous and almost  _wild_ , standing at least four inches taller than most men in the front room, hair long to his shoulders and rifle clutched tight, eyes  _blazing_ in a clear warning to anyone who bothered to get in his way.  
  
At the top of the stairs James paused to speak with Ronin and Samuel, turning so he could scan the room below while still talking. His eyes lingered over Wanda and Pietro for a moment, cataloging the table of men directly behind that had yet to stop looking at Wanda whenever she laughed, the girl across the way Pietro kept trying to smile at, and the movement of a serving girl as she navigated the tables.  
  
There were two soldiers close to the door, the Tsar’s men. Stationed this far from the capital, they were no doubt foot soldiers with no real responsibility or power, but they still bore  _noticing_. 

There was a woman who looked as if she could be bought for a few coins, accompanied by a man who looked as if he could be bought as well, several merchants drinking to money well made, a man drinking as if he needed to  _forget_ , and a family with at least six children– two closer to adults than children, one who most certainly wanted to be seen as an adult and three still hanging about their ma’s skirts.

A crowded room, but not a dangerous room.   
  
“Anyone to worry about?” Samuel asked, and James shook his head. “Didn’t think so. We didn’t notice anyone either.”  
  
“Oh no?” James lit a cigarette, cocking his eyebrow in Samuel and Ronin’s direction. “And how would you have noticed  _anything_ since you spent the last two hours doing unspeakable things with my sister?”  
  
Ronin signed something just out of eye view and James asked, “What now?”  
  
“He says it was three hours, not two.” Samuel offered and down below, more than a few heads turned when Ronin shouted out something panicked and  _hilarious_ and took off down the stairs with James hot on his heels and Samuel laughing so hard he could barely breathe.  
  
“What do you think that was about?” Pietro wanted to know, and Wanda just hushed him. “No, I want to know why Ronin–”  
  
“Pietro.” Tony passed the boy some more of the watered down ale that was doing exactly nothing to get him drunk. “I can promise you, you don’t want to know.”  
  
When James came back through and climbed the stairs again, this time he paused at the top and stared down at their table until Tony finally couldn’t take the obvious  _scrutiny_ anymore and looked up.  
  
James gave the barest nod, hardly a motion of his head, a quick incline towards the  _left_ so Tony would know which room of the four he had taken.  
  
Tony lifted his glass in a discreet  _cheers_ and went back to teasing Pietro about the pretty girl he was making eyes at, sipping at his ale as if his heart wasn’t pounding, his breath coming harsh and a little choppy.  
  
 _Christ_ he was nervous. Nervous about continuing on his first real trip away from the manor since getting off the train in Kiev. Nervous about keeping up appearances with Natalia as a married couple for more than a few minutes. Nervous about going upstairs with James. Nervous about being  _intimate_ with someone, nervous about sharing breath and sharing body heat and touches and kisses and…  
  
Another drink, draining the glass this time and waving as Samuel and Ronin came back to eat.  
  
“Where are you going, Antonio?” Wanda smiled up at him when he stood rather abruptly. “Ready to turn in for the night?”  
  
“Off to find my wife.” Tony said nonchalantly, not missing the way Ronin flinched the tiniest bit at the words and lowering his voice to add, “Which room is she in by the way, so I know to steer clear?”  
  
“The one to the right.” Samuel told him and Ronin signed a slow  _thank you_.  
  
Tony started to leave, then hesitated and sat right back down on Ronin’s good side, bending close to tell him, “I know how it feels to have to hide that you love someone, you know. And I’ve had to sit and watch the person  _I_  love pretend to love someone else.”  
  
Ronin didn’t answer and Tony cleared his throat to add, “Unfortunately, the person I loved hadn’t been pretending to love the other one at all, and I ended up–” he cleared his throat again. “–Well, I ended up here. You and Samuel– you are not the ones pretending in this situation, and neither is Talia. _I_ am.  _I’m_ the one pretending. Completely pretending. About everything.”  
  
“Except James.” Ronin supplied and Tony nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“Right. Except…James.”  
  
“Be sure you’re not.” Samuel spoke up again. “Pretending about James, I mean. It would destroy him.”  
  
“Our hearts are not involved in this.” Tony said steadily. “I’m  _not_ pretending, but even if I were, our hearts–”  
  
“I’ll kill you.” Samuel said softly, watching Tony’s eyes widen. “One day we will have a long talk about exactly how Ronin and I came to be at James’s side and why we don’t call him  _Bucky_ anymore, but until then, you just be damn sure you keep pretending with Talia and you don’t  _ever_ pretend with James, or I will kill you, do you understand?”  
  
“You won’t be the first one we’ve buried in the orchards.” Ronin snapped his fingers for an ale and waited for the girl to bring it to him. “But pretending with James or  _not_ pretending with Talia will end you there all the same.”  
  
“You don’t need to worry about either of those things.”  
  
“You break his heart or try to take hers…” Ronin let the sentence trail and Tony nodded again. “So long as we’re seein’ things the same.”  
  
“Go on, now.” Samuel motioned towards the stairs and they turned to see Talia coming down them, looking lovely and flushed and smiling at them the way a woman in love could. “We’ve got the twins and Talia. Remember, our rooms are on the  _right_.”  
  
“I remember.” Tony’s hand was shaking as he picked up his glass to try for just a few more drops, not sure if he should say  _thank you_  for overtly threatening but still somehow reassuring conversation. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night.”  
  
Tony kissed Natalia’s cheek as she came to the table and she stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear, smiling when Tony whispered something back and hugged her for a moment.

“What did you tell him?” Wanda came around the table and squeezed into the chair next to Natalia. “Talia?”  
  
“You are too young to know what I told him.” The tiny redhead informed her and Wanda sent her a petulant, faux pout. “But I do think two  _very_ specific someones owe me a drink, don’t you?”  
  
“Whatever you want, my love.” Samuel said quickly, quietly and Ronin laced his fingers with Talia’s under the table. “Whatever you want.”  
  
******************

When Tony finally gathered the courage to open the door on the  _left_ , he found James sitting in the window straddling the sill and smoking, one foot hanging outside the window, the other planted firmly on the floor.  
  
James didn’t turn to acknowledge his presence, so Tony didn’t bother saying anything either, busying himself with undoing the tie of his neckerchief and setting it on the table closest to the door, unbuttoning a few of the clasps of his collar and his cuff links, the top button of his trousers. 

It hadn’t occurred to Tony until just this instant that he’d never made this sort of decision before. Ty had always enjoyed undressing Tony at his own pace, choosing which clothing came off and which stayed on and it had been an odd sort of  _control_ Tony had never realized Ty was exercising.  
  
But now the decision of how much skin to show and how much to leave covered was entirely up to  _him_ , and Tony both reveled in it and wanted to curl his lip in disgust at another reminder of exactly how  _toxic_ his previous relationship had been.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Tony didn’t register James turning to look at him, pale eyes tracking across his body with singular purpose and lingering on the open buttons at Tony’s throat, stopping again at the narrow cut of his waist and falling to the long line of Tony’s legs.

“Natalia isn’t here.” James finally said, taking a drag at his cigarette and letting the smoke waft towards the open window. “I assume you’re here looking for your  _wife_? Isn’t that what you told everyone downstairs?“ 

The emphasis on the word didn’t escape Tony’s notice, but he chose not to comment, instead reaching behind to shut the door firmly, engaging the lock in as purposefully a motion as he could manage. James lifted an eyebrow in question and Tony wet his lips to say, “I don’t know why you look surprised to see me, I told you earlier that perhaps the end of the night would find us together.”

“ _Mmm_.” James tossed his cigarette away and unfolded himself from his lazy sprawl, straightening to his full height and rolling powerful shoulders, and Tony’s breath hitched as the seams of James’s shirt pulled tight over the stretch of his arms.

“I’m not  _surprised_ to see you.” James crossed the room in slow, purposeful steps, not stopping until he was nearly toe to toe with Tony. “Was just wondering why it took you so long to get up here.”

“Don’t think that matters.” Tony whispered as James caged him in against the door. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

A smile nothing less than predatory curved around the soldier’s mouth. “Yes. You are.”

Embarrassing as it was to admit, Tony had thought about their first kiss dozens of times, sure that James would snatch him up tight and crush their mouths together in a kiss as brutal and bold as the man himself. He’d imagined James throwing him onto the bed and yanking him up by his hips to have him  _that_ way, he’d imagined having bruises the next morning but that was to be expected with someone like James. 

 _Bruises_.

 _That_ was the sort of thing Tony expected, and it scared him a little bit but he still tipped his head up in an obvious sort of ask for a kiss, closing his eyes and bracing himself and–

Fingers at his hair, moving a loose curl away from his forehead and then a barely there brush down at his cheek. A sweep of thumb over his jawline, and a more purposeful touch at the corner of his mouth and when Tony gasped in quiet surprise–

“ _Oh_.”

It was slow and soft and almost shy, James’s mouth moving against Tony’s in the chastest of kisses, cupping Tony’s jaw in the lightest hold possible to keep him just  _there_.

“ _Oh_ -h-h–”

A warm hand testing the give of Tony’s waist with the gentlest pressure, then tracking down to learn the line of his hip, around to palm the curve of his rear and Tony thumped his head back against the door without realizing, breaking their careful kiss without meaning to when James shifted forward and  _squeezed_.

“ _James_.”  
  
James muttered something in Russian, or maybe it was Sokovian, maybe it was English and Tony’s mind was too muddled to comprehend it but in the next second the kiss was different,  _greedy_ , their mouths crashing and colliding, an insistent tongue playing at the seam of his lips so Tony opened on a low moan and James surged forward to  _taste_.  
  
A thigh parted Tony’s knees and he rocked against it instinctively, biting back a curse– and biting down into James’s lip– when sparks shot up his body, his cock dragging against the unforgiving muscle and when James fit tighter to him, Tony did it again and  _again_ as their kiss grew messy, uncoordinated.

A hot gasp at his neck and the press of teeth and Tony dug his hands into James’s hair and keened for  _more_ , grasping hands low on his rear and Tony arched his back to push himself closer and when James came back to the kiss, this time it was Tony who thrust his tongue inside, licking and curling through the soldiers mouth until James made a hoarse,  _desperate_ sound and lifted Tony right from the floor, directing the long legs around his waist and back pedaling for the bed.  
  
Tony  _oophed_ as he hit the pillows but he didn’t even have time to catch his breath before James was back over him,  _on_ him, pushing his knees apart and slotting into the vee of his hips and Tony bit into his palm so he wouldn’t cry out when he felt how  _hard_ James was.  
  
Hands at his waist and Tony tried not to let the disappointment show in his eyes as he obediently rolled over onto his stomach. Ty had always wanted it like this, never face to face, never so they could kiss and he’d been hoping James would want something different, something more intimate, something–  
  
“Where are you going?” James flipped him back over so easily it made Tony’s head spin, pinning him back to the mattress and stretching out on top to kiss Tony senseless, sucking at his tongue and scraping his teeth at Tony’s bottom lip. “Come here, right here.”  
  
“Thought you wanted me face down.” Tony flushed red with embarrassment. “You grabbed at me and–”  
  
“And  _what_?”  
  
“And I thought you wanted me face down.”  
  
James’s laugh was barely a laugh at all, breathless and hoarse and wanting and he muttered, “Maybe another time  _moya tayna_ , this time I want to see you.”  
  
Clothes came off in a rush then, shirts tossed aside and trousers undone and kicked away and when they  _finally_ lay together naked, Tony dug his nails into James’s side and cried something filthy in Italian, burying his face in James’s neck to muffle the words and mouthing over his pulse, grateful that the soldiers heart was pounding at least as hard as his was, grateful for the tremble in James’s fingers that meant Tony wasn’t the only one overwhelmed.  
  
The first press inside was  _shocking_ , even after fingers and even with whatever was warm and  _slick_ that James had produced from beneath the pillow.  
  
“Prepared?” Tony had asked, trying to sound mocking, to sound confident, to sound anything but  _wrecked_ as James had touched him low between his legs. “Hm?”  
  
“Waiting.” James had answered, not bothering to sound anything  _except_ wrecked as he opened Tony slowly, carefully. “Just waiting.”  
  
The first press was  _shocking_ , blunt and heavy and Tony bit his tongue until tears came to his eyes but he didn’t say  _no_ and he didn’t say  _stop_ even when James paused to ask.  
  
“More.” he whispered and James gave him a kiss that left him reeling, nearly sobbing as their bodies fit together. “Oh god,  _sei troppo_ , yes yes yes  _more_ –”  
  
Tony had forgotten what it felt like to take someone into his body, to feel the hot slide of skin and the intimacy of sharing air, to somehow be over full and so so empty all at the same time. It had been a long time and Tony had  _forgotten_ but as James drove into his core, stole his breath with long strokes that made him want to wail, found a spot deep inside that had Tony seeing stars and tearing at the sheets–

–he knew it had never ever been like this.  
  
 _Never like this._  
  
And after wards, after James had coaxed Tony to his edge and over into a shattering release, after Tony had turned his face into a pillow so he wouldn’t scream, after James had slid free and spilled onto the blankets and fallen to the side gasping for breath–  
  
 _Afterwards_ , Tony tried to get out of bed almost immediately, gathering his clothes and trying to get redressed. He’d always been the one left behind before as Ty ran back home to his wife, and this time Tony had to manage at least a little control, a little say in the situation because  _damn it_  he was not going to be left in bed asking for  _more_ while another lover walked away from him–  
  
“Stay.” The words were whispered, James’s chest still heaving and his arm over his eyes, but he held out his other hand for Tony, crooking his fingers and motioning him back. “For a moment, at least. We can’t stay the night together, but stay with me for just a moment.”  
  
Tony dropped his clothes in a pile and climbed right back onto the bed, letting the soldier tuck him close into a solid chest and wrap him tight in shaking arms, press clumsy kisses to his forehead.  
  
It had  _never_ been like this, not even once and as Tony listened to James’s heart beat slow, he felt the first stirrings of  _panic_.  
  
Maybe his heart was involved after all.  
  
He couldn’t do this to himself.  
  
 _Not again._


	11. Chapter 11

Breakfast was a rushed affair the next morning, supply lists drawn up and handed out between bites of toast and plans made around sips of bitter coffee.

Natalia turned over all her coin to Samuel and Ronin when they went to the rooms to pack their over night bags, but only after Tony pointed out that their show of wedded bliss would be more convincing if the rich husband was handing out the money. 

“Antonio, I didn’t marry you for your money!” Natalia reminded him teasingly and Tony’s voice was just the edge of  _frosty_ when he replied, “No, you married me because I was pretty enough to be a convincing alibi and desperate enough not to ask many questions. My wealth is only a bonus, isn’t it?” 

He smiled to soften the words but it wasn’t quite enough to erase the  _bite_ in his tone and Natalia pursed her lips in confusion, her next words carefully measured. “And what a lovely bonus it is, darling, though not the reason we want you to stay.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not the reason at all.” Tony’s eyes went to the door when James stepped through, his gaze lingering over the stretch of the soldier’s shoulders and down to the line of James’s hips. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Antonio.” Natalia put her hand on his arm before he stood. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean anything by the comment about your money, but you seem upset all the same.” She inclined her head in the barest motion towards James. “Is there a reason you are being particularly stiff and irritable this morning?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.“ A streak of red painted Tony’s cheeks, but he still waved Natalia’s question off. "You’ve just forgotten how  _stiff_ my manners can be. I was raised practically noble you know. What you see as  _irritable_ , others see as evidence of class.”

“Well, you  _were_ sort of a bore when I snatched you from that party, weren’t you?” Natalia’s mouth was still set in an uncertain line as she sent another look at where James was talking with Samuel. “But irritability or manners aside, no one expects you to put on airs today, not even with the amount of money you’ll be spending, do you understand? No need to pretend. About  _anything_.”

“I’m  _not_ pretending about anything.” Tony slid fine gloves onto his hands and shrugged into his warmer coat. “And I think you should stop worrying.”

 _Stop meddling_  is what Tony meant, the censure evident in his posture.  
  
“Antonio.” Natalia tried again, keeping her voice low so it didn’t carry to the men at the door. “I just don’t want you to worry about James. He is more discreet than his terrible attitude would suggest and–”   
  
“ _Natalia_.” Tony’s eyes flashed in a clear warning for her to  _back off_. “I might be out of my element chopping wood and cleaning chamber pots around the manor,  but there are  _several_ things I know how to do very well, including how to behave after a late night indiscretion. Please do not think I need any help navigating this sort of situation and please do  _not_ make assumptions about how I’m feeling.”  
  
To the men at the door, effectively cutting off any sort of reply from Natalia– “Let’s get on. We have lots of supplies to purchase and if we want to be home again by dark, we need to  _move_.”   
  
Tony’s tone was brittle and almost snappish, and while Ronin raised his eyebrows at the sharp words, Samuel simply slung a friendly arm over Pietro’s shoulder and said, “Pietro, come along with us to get the ammunition and nails and that sort. Leave the women to prance around with Tony in that ridiculous fur coat.”  
  
“This coat is worth more than your horse.” Tony informed him with a faux offended sniff and Samuel grinned back. “And you’ll be sorry when I buy Natalia and Wanda new dresses and  _you_ have to keep wearing the same ratty pants.”  
  
“Antonio!” Wanda’s eyes lit in surprise and hope. “Would you really buy me a new dress?”  
  
“I’ll buy you four if you like.” Tony said nonchalantly, a smile curving his mouth when the pretty girl flushed in pleasure. “Natalia as well. I’ve got the coin, we should spend it on something.”  
  
“ _Oy_! I want to go along with Tony!” Pietro protested loudly and Samuel just clapped a hand on his collar and hauled him out the door behind James. "No wait! I want new things! I want new things too!”    
  
“My love.” Ronin bent to give Natalia a long kiss, then looked up at Tony, “Buy her something in purple. I like when she wears purple.”  
  
“Purple it is.” Tony nodded and looked away politely when Natalia kissed her love back. “We’ll try for two in the afternoon to meet? That should be plenty of time to do our shopping and to start back home again.”  
  
“I’m sure that’s enough time.” Natalia signed the same to Ronin and blew him another kiss as he left. “Now then, Antonio I was thinking we should–“  
  
She shut up abruptly when James came back, ignoring both her and Wanda in favor of coming round to Tony’s side of the small table and covering his mouth in a long kiss, burying his fingers in Tony’s hair to angle his head just right and murmuring against Tony’s lips– “ _dobroye utro_.”– as they parted. “Good morning.”  
  
“Good morning.” Tony whispered back and James gave him one last kiss before straightening and leaving again, closing the door behind him and thumping down the stairs to catch up with Samuel and Ronin.  
  
Wanda was the one to break the stunned silence, giggling, “My oh  _my_. Antonio, you two must have had a wonderful time together! I’ve  _never_ seen James smile in the morning, it must be the same smile you left him with last night!” 

Tony turned positively scarlet and Natalia was quick to reprimand, “Wanda! You are too young to know about those sort of things!”  

Wanda protested, “I’ve been grown for three years now! You can’t expect me to only talk about hair ribbons and pretty horses forever! Of course I know what happens in the bedroom–” 

“No!” Natalia burst into laughter and waved her hands wildly. “No, child. I cannot believe that. Don’t hurt my ears with such talk!” 

“You are as old fashioned as a grandmama.” Wanda informed her with a little huff, before turning frankly curious eyes to Tony. “Are you and James in love? Is that why he kissed you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are a million reasons to kiss someone that have nothing to do with love or affection at all.” Tony managed, biting at his lips to hide a smile. “Let’s go please.”  
  
“But what about–”  
  
“Let’s  _go_ please!”  
  
Tony swept out of the room without another word, and Wanda hesitated less than a second before whirling around to ask, “Talia,  _why_ is he so surprised James wanted to kiss him after spending the night together? They are so obviously smitten, I’m sure they’ve kissed before!”   
  
“First of all, I’m sure neither my brother nor Antonio have any idea exactly how  _smitten_ they are.” Natalia said dryly. “And second, I assume Antonio’s previous lover never initiated a kiss unless they were already in bed He doesn’t talk about it much, but it seems he and his lover only met on the other man’s terms, in a private place and never  _ever_ spent the night together. I can’t imagine Antonio has ever been kissed  _good morning_.”  
  
“How sad for Antonio.” Wanda buttoned her own jacket then held out Natalia’s to help her into the sleeves. “I’ve never been in love and even _I_ know it couldn’t have been true affection.”  
  
“It’s always easier to judge a situation when you are on the outside looking in, darling.” Natalia retrieved her purse and checked the room one more time to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. “And you’ve spent years watching how Ronin and Samuel and I are together, the way our entire family loves so freely. James is the odd one out in that respect, and Antonio is the same.  _You_ recognize love when you see it.”  
  
“And you think Antonio doesn’t?”  
  
“I think he’s so jaded by what he thought was love, he won’t  _want_ to recognize it.” Natalia  _tsked_ sympathetically. “Shadows, Wanda. He has shadows in his heart and I’m afraid they are too dark for him to see anything at all.”  
  
“You’re worried James will be hurt.”  
  
“I’m worried they’ll hurt themselves and each other and not realize until it’s too late.” Natalia tucked a piece of red hair behind Wanda’s ear and smiled into the girl’s eyes. “Promise me you won’t go running after the first boy to smile at you. Or the first woman to call you beautiful. Please  _please_ be smarter than that. For me.”  
  
“Talia.” Wanda sighed and pushed her out the door. “I’ll be lucky if anyone gets close enough to even  _see_ me, what with Ronin and Samuel being so protective. There’s nothing to worry about, not for a long while.”  
  
“It’s terrible selfish of me to be glad for that.” Natalia linked their arms and hurried down the stairs. “Now come on. We don’t want Antonio to change his mind about buying us dresses, do we?”

****************

Natalia Romanova was born a blue blood, raised in a home that was damn near a castle and wed to a high ranking nobleman and yet she had  _never_ been treated with the respect just walking around as Tony’s  _wife_ gave her.  
  
Her father had been suspected of treason long before he’d ever been convicted and Natalia’s childhood had been full of snide remarks, of less than quiet comments and outright awful insinuations about her family and the lack of morals afforded the Romanovs. 

As the young bride of a  _monster_ , Natalia was handed all the responsibilities of a noblewoman and was given none of the benefits– no party invitations, no afternoons of tea with the other ladies, no dressmakers clamoring to create something lovely for the next ball. She had been isolated and ostracized, lonely and miserable and no one had ever cared.  
  
Talia was used to being looked down at, whispered about, having her money accepted only begrudgingly, as if even her coin was tainted and Natalia hated every moment of every interaction clear to her very  _soul_.  
  
But around the city with Tony, Natalia was treated like a  _queen_ , shop owners opening their doors wide and eagerly showing the three of them around. The dressmaker nearly fell over herself calling for assistants to take measurements for Natalia and Wanda, promising to have several of the ready made dresses tailored immediately and sent out as soon as possible, holding up hats to model and pair after pair of delicate kid gloves, scarves, broaches and baubles.  
  
Shopping for food things and pantry items was the same, vendors happy to sell to Natalia  _now_ when in months previous they had sniffed and turned away. Tony ordered everything crated and delivered to their wagon with an itemized receipt, the finer things stored in the carriage and  _oh_ would there be hell to pay if he discovered even one item missing from the list.  
  
“We can carry some of the things, Antonio.” Wanda whispered and Tony hushed her with a lofty, “I’ve never carried a package in my life and I’m not about to start now. Next shop, please.”  
  
Clear on the other side of the town, James and the others were busy purchasing as much ammunition as they could, two new rifles and four more refurbished pieces they could tear apart and use to repair the pile at home. Nails of all sizes, a new saw, a new ax head as well, and the coin purse  _still_ wasn’t empty by the time they were done. 

Ronin and Samuel stopped into a trinket shop to purchase a few gifts for Talia and the twins, and James privately purchased something he tucked into his pocket for later, something he’d give Tony if the time was ever right.  
  
“Everything alright?” Samuel asked James as he rechecked the supplies against the list Natalia had written. "You’re quiet today.”  
  
“I’m always quiet.” James countered brusquely. “Are we done?”  
  
 _I agree. Quiet_. Ronin signed, and then, “We’re done if you are.“  
  
“It was good to see you smile this morning.” Samuel spoke for both of them, shaking his head when Pietro looked like he was going to ask a question. “Been a long time since you managed that sorta thing for anything other than bloodshed.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” the big soldier tucked away a new pouch of tobacco and cloves. “So  _don’t_.”  
  
“It’s not–” Samuel sent a glance over to Ronin. “–I mean, It’s been ten years, James. You don’t have to feel guilty for this sorta thing, for being with Tony? And he sure looked happy this morning so–”  
  
“I said  _don’t_!”  
  
“Alright then.” Samuel wisely let the topic drop, handing Pietro the rifles and a sack of ammunition. “Let’s find the others.”  
  
************  
  
The ride home was spent with Wanda excitedly telling Pietro about her day, about the dresses they’d tried on and the ribbons Tony had bought for their hair and how she couldn’t  _wait_ to have an excuse to wear her new hat somewhere fun. Samuel rode along the other side of the carriage to keep an eye out for any danger, listening with one ear to the conversation and grinning over Wanda’s glee.

Natalia napped in the carriage with most of the smaller packages taking over the seats, a blanket spread over her lap so she was warm. She was exhausted from the long day, from putting on the airs and manners she had always hated. It had been fun to be so spoiled, to be treated so well, but more than anything Natalia wanted to get back to their manor house, back home so she could sleep next to her loves and finish readying the house for the coldest months.

Ronin drove the heavily laden wagon with his horse tied behind, and Tony rode to the side as guard. The pace was slower this time around but the horses put in a valiant effort and Tony encouraged them with quiet clicks of his tongue and soft words.  
  
James trailed behind the group much like he had the first time, sweeping the surrounding woods for any sign of life, turning in the saddle to check behind to be sure they hadn’t been followed from town. He hadn’t seen a single soldier today no had he caught anyone looking at them with anything any other than generic curiosity, but that didn’t mean soldiers hadn’t been present, or that their family hadn’t been  _watched_.

So James scanned the woods, checked the trail behind, looked as far ahead as he could to be sure there were no surprises ahead and his eyes only paused in their surveying when to settle on Tony’s back every few moments.  
  
The night between them had been… well, it had been surprising, to say the least.   
  
Their first real kiss had shocked James as much as it had seemed to shock Tony, the way their bodies suddenly yearned and clung and  _ached_. James had tried to go slow, he had. It had been a long time for him after all, ten years since he’d lost Stevie and James hadn’t wanted  _anyone_ since that awful day. 

In reality, James had barely wanted at all since then, forsaking even the comfort of his own hand and drowning any lingering urge for  _pleasure_ in blood and pain until it didn’t exist anymore.  
  
But Tony had been nothing like Stevie. Shorter for one, and quite a bit smaller. James’s hands could just about fit around Tony’s waist and the pretty brunette had made this gorgeous  _surprised_ noise that made James’s fingers tighten around the reins just  _thinking_ about it. And afterwards when they had held each other for just a few minutes, Tony had fit with his head tucked under James’s chin, their feet tangling beneath the covers and it had been damn near  _perfect_.  
  
And Tony was soft,  _so soft_. Not rows and rows of hard muscle, not arms strong enough to pick Bucky up and shove him into a wall, not thighs thick enough to clamp around Bucky’s head and nearly suffocate him as he tried to fit  _everything_ in his mouth.  
  
No, Tony was soft and breakable and for the first time in ten years James hadn’t  _wanted_ to break anything.  
  
He’d tried to be gentle. He’d tried to be soft. He’d tried to find the words to soothe Tony’s obvious embarrassment over expecting to be turned face down. It hadn’t been until after Tony had left the room, not until after the sun had risen that it occurred to James that at some point, Tony had  _always_ been pushed face down in bed.  
  
Who would do that, when there were such sweet lips waiting to be kissed and a mouth begging to be tasted and a blush red on porcelain skin and the chance to listen to every little gasp and pant and the way  _Italian_ slipped into Tony’s words when he was overwhelmed?  
  
 _Who would want to miss that?_  
  
Tony hadn’t said anything after their kiss this morning, in fact he hadn’t said anything at all since leaving the town, only flashing James a quick smile before ducking inside the carriage to change out of his fancier clothes and into a shirt and coat he could travel in. Then he’d climbed aboard his horse–with a grimace and a wince that had made a very specific sort of  _satisfaction_ curl through James’s stomach– and hadn’t said a single word.  
  
That was alright. They’d have time to talk tonight after the wagon was unloaded and supplies stacked in the pantry to be sorted through in the morning. They could talk and then they could–  
  
James cursed out loud when he was suddenly  _physically_ uncomfortable in the saddle, shifting his weight and lifting up in the seat so there wasn’t quite so much pressure. Ten years of foregoing this sort of thing and now he was as eager as a young man, nothing more than a few thoughts needed to get him going. 

Tony turned around at the noise, shooting James a concerned glance. “Alright?”  
  
“Saddle’s uncomfortable.” James said evenly, and then with a pointed look  _lower_ on Tony’s body. “How’s yours?”  
  
Tony lifted one shoulder in an approximation of the least concerned shrug he could manage and turned back around, being sure to muffle his whimper as his core lit up with a flash of pain, settling into a dull ache that made his cheeks heat and his heart race.  
  
All day he’d managed to keep his mind off of James and on the tasks at hand, but now they were only a few hours from home all Tony could think of was what would happen tonight.  _If_ anything would happen tonight.  
  
He couldn’t imagine wanting someone so soon again after a night together– he and Ty had always gone at least a week between trysts, sometimes even longer. But James had come in this morning and kissed him in full view of Talia and Wanda, had kissed him and whispered soft things into his ear and last night he had asked Tony to stay for a few minutes so they could hold each other and  _oh_  Tony didn’t know what he’d do if James wanted him again tonight.  
  
That was absurd, of course he knew what he’d do.  
  
 _He’d say yes._  
  
****************  
It was dark by the time they made it home to the manor house, and James sent Natalia and Wanda inside while the men carried everything through the house and stacked it in the pantry and around the kitchen.  
  
Samuel and Ronin took care of the wagon and carriage, sweeping out the dirt that had accumulated over the past two days and backing them each into the empty barn on the other side of the courtyard. Wheels were locked into position and any hinges or latches secured, then the barn doors were barred and left until next time.  
  
“I’ll get the horses.” James was already walking Zima towards the stables, so neither Samuel nor Ronin argued with him, eager to get upstairs and into bed with Natalia. Pietro didn’t bother offering to help, the boy more than ready for something eat and to open the new novel James had bought for him at the bookstore. “You three start locking up the house for the night and I’ll be in soon. Be sure to secure the windows so the wind doesn’t come through.”  
  
Tony walked his mount to the stables next to James and and they worked in silence to get the horses all wiped down and given a quick brush, special attention paid to the team that had pulled the heavy wagon for so long– hooves inspected and noses checked to be sure the bridles hadn’t rubbed uncomfortably. 

Clean hay was laid down on the floors and a handful of newly bought oats mixed in with the food for the night, water poured into the trough so there was plenty to drink. Tack was sorted and worked through with oil, saddles checked for burrs or thorns and blankets shaken out before being lain over the sides of an empty stall.  
  
When it was all said and done, James hung the pitchfork up along the wall and reached for Tony, dragging him up close for a kiss he’d been thinking about all day, greedy and  _grabby_ as he spun around to pin Tony to the stable wall, caging the smaller brunette in with his arms before taking his mouth again, thrusting his tongue past Tony’s lips without pausing for a breath.  
  
Tony gasped something coaxing and  _excited_ , then set his fingers to scrabbling at James’s shirt to yank it from his pants, dragged his nails along the flex of muscles and palmed confidently over the front of James’s trousers, getting his reward in the form of a burst of Russian profanity and an eager push of hips.  
  
It was dark in the stables, the scent of sweet hay and night wind and  _each other_  filling their heads and their senses and it was so  _easy_ to find release right then and there, rutting against each other and the wall, sharing messy kisses that were more teeth and tongue than lips, sharing air and breathing  _wanton_ , indecipherable things into each other’s ear, mouthing it into sweat warmed skin.  
  
James finished first this time, using the leftover oils on his hand to stroke them together, panting into the curve of Tony’s neck and shaking through his release. Tony followed a minute later, pushed over the edge by the added slick of James’s spend, by the way the soldier’s voice had gone hoarse and lazy and  _satisfied_ as he brought Tony over into pleasure as well.  
  
And then they stayed huddled together, Tony’s hand in James’s hair and James not willing to straighten up and pull away, breath slowing and bodies cooling until everything had settled into a low simmer of arousal and  _contentment._  
  
“So.” James finally lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. “This is what we’re doing then?”  
  
“So long as it’s  _just_ this.” Tony said quietly, tucking himself back into his trousers and wiping his hands on a handful of hay. “You understand?”  
  
“Don’t worry.” in the dark, Tony couldn’t tell if James’s smile was amused or melancholy. “My heart is not involved, nor do I want yours to be.”  
  
“Alright then.”  
  
Despite their words, James’s arm wound around Tony’s waist as they walked from the barn, another kiss or two landing in his hair and before they climbed the stairs, once more on his mouth, James cupping Tony’s jaw lightly and kissing him sweetly before saying goodnight.  
  
And just as he fell asleep, Tony thought about the ice in James’s soul, the  _winter_ that drove the soldier to such violence. How could so cold a man could have hands so warm, how someone so brittle could make Tony feel hot and  _liquid_ with nothing more than a kiss?   
  
James lay in his bed across the hall and told himself over and over that their hearts weren’t involved, that it was physical and nothing else…

…then closed his eyes and dreamed about all the way he could erase the shadows from deep brown eyes.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Random maybe unnecessary TW? They hunt in this chapter and there is a scene of butchering/skinning animals. I grew up with this sort of thing so it doesn’t bother me, but it might bother you…. I’ll mark it ***)

_My heart isn’t involved._ Tony told himself when James pushed away from the breakfast table one morning and bent to kiss him, licking the remnants of syrup from his tongue and dragging blunt teeth across Tony’s bottom lip.  
  
“Good morning.” he whispered and Tony chased the kiss, hooking his fingers in James’s shirt and bringing him back down for another, whispering his own “Good morning, James.”  
  
“I want you tonight.” the soldier muttered, filtering his fingers into Tony’s hair and brushing their noses together, sliding a wet kiss along Tony’s jaw to his ear. “My room or yours?”  
  
“Yours.” Tony answered quickly,  _casually_ , forcing the words unaffected and careless as if he hadn’t been dreaming of falling into bed with James for the past several days. “Less chance of Talia and the others hearing anything.”

“ _Ty prav._ ” James smiled, slow and secret and heated enough to make Tony want to blush, but he refused to look away, meeting the pale eyes steadily as James answered, “You’re right. My room then, after evening chores.”  
  
At the last minute, Tony smoothed his fingers over James’s cheek, unable to help giving into the urge to brush at the rough stubble and his heart caught in his throat when James smiled again. “After evening chores.”

James left after that, jerking his head for Samuel and Ronin to follow behind.  
  
Today was the fifth day he and the others had gone hunting on the manor land to stock the storage, and so far they had brought home  _piles_ of rabbits and bags worth of pheasants that all had to be butchered and set for the winter.  
  


 _(**TW**)_  
Natalia and Wanda skinned the rabbits and prepared the meat, cutting most of it into thin strips to dry and salting the larger pieces before storing them in the root cellar. The ground stayed cold all year round, practically frozen for most of the time and the cold temperatures would preserve the meat for months. Any fur that could be saved was cleaned and treated and set aside to be sewn into hats and into the lining of the more threadbare coats for the season, to bolster their blankets and stuff the pillows.  
  
The pheasants had to be plucked and deboned and  _that_ particular job fell to Tony and Pietro after they finished the morning chores, each wearing their oldest clothing and the largest aprons in the kitchen to avoid the mess, carefully sorting the feathers into one basket and discarding the bones in another. Tony had never had to do  _anything_ like this, and the first time he saw Pietro so casually tear the skin right from a carcass, he leaned over and was sick into the kitchen sink.  
  
Even Wanda had laughed at him, giggling from behind her hand as Tony swore and muttered and  _cursed_ about being raised a nobleman, and having never put any thought into how his food was prepared.  
  
“Antonio, my love.” Natasha could hardly speak through her laughter. “If you cannot manage to skin a pheasant, I can always have you chop carrots for the stew. That should protect your delicate  _fancy_ sensibilities, hm?”  
  
“I can do it.” Tony insisted, wiping his mouth and then his hands. “I can do it. Bring me a bird.”  
  
He was sick again when Pietro yanked the backbone from the pheasant and splashed the entrails into the tub, but despite his wide eyes and generally horrified expression, Tony cleared his throat and set to work himself, grabbing a pheasant by the neck and watching everything Pietro did closely so he wouldn’t make any mistakes.  
 _(**End TW**)_

  
By the end of the day there were only a handful of birds too mangled to keep, and by the end of the second day, Tony’s pile was nearly as large as Pietro’s. By the third day Tony was skinning birds without grimacing and Natalia clapped her hands in delight when he also popped up in the kitchen to chop an enormous amount of carrots for the stew.  
  
James didn’t comment when Natalia had praised Tony’s new found ability over the evening meal, and he didn’t comment when the entirely  _expected_ round of teasing from Sam and Pietro lasted clear through dinner. Ronin jumped in for the occasional signed comment and Wanda laughed until tears ran down her cheeks as Pietro mimed terrified Tony’s expression at seeing the backbone and insides of the birds. .  
  
But when Tony looked up and caught James’s eye, the soldier offered a raised eyebrow and genuinely impressed smile as his contribution to the discussion and Tony smiled right back, lifting his chin confidently and eating the rest of his dinner with a proud little smirk.  
  
 _My heart’s not involved_  Tony told himself that night, hiding the flush on his cheeks over James noticing his hard work and appreciating it. He hadn’t learned how to dress a pheasant to impress  _anyone_ , he’d learned because it needed done, because he wanted to help the household and because  _this_ was his life now.  
  
Afterwards, Tony had collapsed bone tired into bed, shoulders sore from prepping so many animals and fingers stinging from a myriad of tiny cuts when the knife had slipped, but he had still held his breath waiting to see if James would come and knock on his door.  
  
They’d been together in the shadows of the stable that first night home from the village and the night after, James had asked Tony to his room. But in the four nights since then James had been out hunting until late, not climbing the stairs with Samuel and Ronin until well after everyone else was asleep and Tony—  
  
Well, his heart  _wasn’t_ involved. It wasn’t love or affection Tony felt for James, but it was most certainly  _lust,_ and he tossed and turned most of the night with the sort of ache in his core he knew wouldn’t be quenched by food or drink.  
  
But James had kissed him this morning and requested tonight, so all day Tony was antsy and restless and by the time Samuel, Ronin and James finally returned after sundown wit an elk butchered and parceled out between their packs, Tony was nearly climbing the walls with anticipation.   
  
The elk was enough to feed the entire family for the winter, full of good tender roasts and rich organs, tougher meat perfect to sit and simmer and stews, plenty to dry and prepare as jerky.  Pietro and Wanda exclaimed over the set of antlers Ronin had taken from the bull, Natalia spent entirely too much time staring at Samuel’s arms as he carried in the huge pieces, and Tony’s attention was focused entirely on James which was just fine, because James’s attention was focused entirely on  _him_.  
  
It was  _lust_ between them, lust and a dizzying sort of  _want_ that had Tony’s heart pounding and his mouth dry when James took his hand in clear view of everyone in the kitchen and dragged him upstairs. They pushed through the door of James’s room and fell backwards onto the bed together, James planting those big hands on either side of Tony’s head and kissing him until neither could breathe, until Tony was hard and  _throbbing_ in his trousers, until James was murmuring sweet,  _greedy_ things in Russian as he stripped their clothes off.  
  
The bed frame hit the wall with every hard thrust of James between Tony’s thighs, the blankets twisting beneath their bodies until James just shoved them off the bed entirely, spreading Tony out across the mattress and filling him again and  _again_ as Tony scratched down the heavily muscled back and planted his feet on the bed to push up into every stroke, over and over until the sheets were covered in sweat and their spend.  
  
“I missed you.” James panted into his ear as they came down together, propped up on his elbow so he wouldn’t crush Tony under his weight, fingers spread over Tony’s heart. “ _Moya krasota_. My beauty. Missed you.”  
  
“It’s been four days.” Tony stretched languidly, playing it off as if he wasn’t practically  _drunk_ on the feel of James. His lips were stinging from their kisses, his neck raw from the scratch of a rough beard, his mind spinning from the pleasure skittering up and down his spine, but Tony still chuckled and pretended not to be affected by the endearment from the soldier. “Hardly long enough to miss someone, is it?”  
  
“I call you beauty and you tell me it hasn’t been long enough to miss someone.” James chided, rolling from the bed to dip a cloth in the basin and wipe himself down, rinsing it before coming back to Tony and moving to clean him as well.  
  
“Oh no, don’t do that.” Tony sat up abruptly and took the cloth, turning his back on James to clean the remnants of both their pleasure from his stomach, then down further to swipe any remaining slick from his thighs. “Do you have a cigarette though? I wouldn’t mind a smoke.”  
  
“Thought you didn’t make a habit of this sort of thing?” James reached for his pack of tobacco and papers, making quick work of rolling a cigarette while Tony got dressed again.  
  
“I find myself doing  _lots_ of things lately I don’t usually make a habit of.” Tony’s eyes darted to James’s deft fingers and then away again. “Skinning rabbits and preparing pheasants come to mind.”  
  
James laughed quietly, beautifully unabashed in his nakedness as he went to his cigar box for a match. “And sleeping with soldiers and smoking  _doesn’t_ come to mind?”  
  
“If I’m being honest, my mind isn’t put together enough to think of more than two things at a time.” Tony said ruefully, allowing himself just a tiny smile when James laughed again. “But yes, now that you mention it. Rabbits and pheasants and night time liaisons with soldiers and smoking are all new habits for me. Sokovia has ruined my carefully constructed  _persona nobile_.”  
  
“S’good what you do to help my sister around the house, chores and with the meat and all that.” James took a long pull from the cigarette before offering it to Tony, fitting his hand comfortably at the back of Tony’s neck as he waited, playing with the dark curls. “Even if it has ruined your…” he frowned. “… _persona nobile_.”  
  
“Your accent is atrocious.” Tony smiled again and James brought their mouths together in a slow kiss, lingering over Tony’s lips for a long moment. “What was that for?”  
  
“You have a beautiful smile.” James murmured, and then with a wink. “And if you think my Italian is atrocious, you should hear yourself try and speak Russian.  _Awful_.”  
  
“Mmm.” Tony took one more drag from the cigarette and stepped away. “And on that less than charming note, I think our evening is over.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be. Why don’t you stay the night?” James presented the question like a challenge, leaning against the wall and letting Tony get a full look at his entire body, his cock still half hard and thick against his thigh, hair askew from where Tony had pulled at it as he came, lips parted and eyes half lidded and  _suggestive_. “This isn’t the inn, no one to cause trouble if they see you leaving my room in the morning.”  
  
“This was nice.” Tony glanced over the still damp spots on the sheets and then back at James, taking his time in admiring the heavy muscles and long limbs on display. “But I sleep better in my own bed.”  
  
“You’re sure?” James didn’t seem to care one way or another what Tony answered, wrapping a towel around his waist and propping the window open to cool the room down. “You look awful tired, more tired than usual anyway. Bout half dead on your feet.”  
  
“Thank you.” Tony said dryly. “Call me beauty and then say I look half dead. It’s enough to make me miss Italian men and the way they flirt, and I  _certainly_ never thought I’d say that.”  
  
“Didn’t mean anything by it, Tony. Least not bout the half dead part.” James cut a sideways glance at him. “Stay with me. If you want to.”  
  
Tony was taking a step back towards the bed, James already moving to meet him halfway before they caught themselves and stopped, Tony shaking his head and James covering his movement by tapping his cigarette on the edge of his cup to get rid of the ash.  
  
“I sleep better in my own bed.” Tony said again, not quite as firmly as he had the first time. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”  
  
James went back to the wash basin to give himself a more thorough cleaning and Tony shut the door quietly as he went to his own room, crawling immediately between the cold sheets and closing his eyes tight.  
  
James told him to stay the night so casually, so  _easily_ as if it were something they did all the time. But Tony couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stay the night and he couldn’t linger more than a few minutes, he couldn’t allow James to do something as personal as help clean him up when they were finished.  
  
This wasn’t supposed to be intimate, it was supposed to be  _carnal_. Not sweet and slow, only rough and hurried. There weren’t supposed to be whispered endearments and talk of missing each other, Tony wasn’t supposed to already ache for the feel of James inside him, between his thighs and pressed against his chest.  
  
He had missed Ty like that, back before all the lies had come to light. He had missed Ty the way he was starting to miss James and Tony couldn’t allow himself to do that.  
  
 _Not again._  
  
His heart was not involved.  
  
….not involved at all.  
*************  
*************  
Everything James did in his life was calculated and purposeful, from his daily regimen of working with the horses so they wouldn’t get lazy or swollen from lack of proper circulation, to the way he spoke with Pietro as he helped the boy take a rifle apart and clean it before meticulously re-assembling the piece.  
  
When he stayed at breakfast long enough to indulge Natalia with conversation, his pale eyes never stopped checking the windows and doors, flitting over to check on Wanda and back to keep track of Samuel and Ronin, his rare laugh always quieter than the rest of the noise in the kitchen so he was never too distracted.  
  
Every movement, every look, every  _word_ was carefully measured and exactly to the point, James entirely a soldier every second of every day–  
  
–until his eyes landed on Tony.  
  
Then the ice blue melted to something gorgeous, the strong jaw relaxing into a slow smile. His motions were looser, his tone more suggestive, the tilt to his head inviting and the clutch of his fingers  _knowing_ when he held Tony close.  
  
And  _oh_ the soldier held Tony so so close.  
  
For all their nonchalant conversations and barely muted innuendos, for the way requests to spend time together were challenges and eye contact nearly a contest of wills, the way James held Tony spoke of something completely different between them.  
  
Tony could count on a kiss every morning at the table, deft fingers in his hair and a searching tongue tasting the sweetness of his breakfast and the bitter edge of coffee. There were casual touches as they passed in the barn that weren’t casual at all, Tony learning quickly to arch his back into the brush of fingers at his spine and to push his rear into the sweep of a palm.  
  
Some nights James asked Tony to his room, other times they came together in the shadows of the stalls or the woodshed or on a nightly patrol that ran longer than they planned, kissing and exploring and learning what it was to  _know_ each other.  
  
James was equal times gentle and rough, bruising Tony’s skin with his strength and soothing it with his lips, kisses that were more teeth and tongue than anything else and then soft words whispered into Tony’s hair, into his shoulders, mouthed over his heart. And when they finished, sometimes Tony first, other times James unable to hold back any longer, then the soldier was sweet and  _only_ sweet, dotting kisses all over Tony’s face and down his neck, calling him  _beauty_ and  _sweet thing_  and pushing their foreheads together so they could share air as they came down.  
  
 _Oh_ the way he held Tony, as if he never wanted to pull away, as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.  
  
It was so easy to be with James in those moments, easy to forget they didn’t love each other when James was better to Tony than Tiberius had ever been, easy to linger a little longer every night before telling James that no, he wouldn’t stay the night, that he slept better in his own bed.  
  
It was a lie and they both knew it, but James never argued or pushed or even asked twice, taking Tony at his word and leaving it alone.  
  
Tony’s heart wasn’t involved and James’s heart wasn’t either. They weren’t in love and didn’t want to be.  
  
But when James tipped his head just right and smiled, or when Tony stood and watched with that  _spark_ in his eyes, it was only a matter of minutes before they found each other somewhere private and did it all, all over again.   
  
The rest of the family sat around rolling their eyes at how terribly unsubtle the unorthodox couple was, and placing wagers on how long it would be before one or the other stopped pretending and just admitted they were in love.  
  
“I think it’s sweet.” Wanda decided one night as she cleared the dishes away from the table and carried them to the tub for Pietro to wash. “Neither one knows how smitten they are with the other and yet they don’t bother trying to stay away? It’s sweet. I hope I find that sort of love one day.”  
  
“No you don’t.” Samuel shook his head as he sliced a piece of cake for Natalia and Ronin. “At least, you don’t want it the way James and Tony have had to earn it. James has been mourning for ten years now and this is the first time we’ve seen him look at anyone twice. And Tony with the mess he left in Italy–” he shook his head again. “Find love without all the pain involved, hm?”  
  
 _Stay home. No men_. Ronin signed and Pietro laughed. “You see that, sister? Ronin doesn’t even want you to find love! He wants you here baking cake for us forever!”  
  
“Forget what I said.” Samuel decided. “I agree with Ronin. Stay here and never fall in love.”  
  
“Both of you stop that.” Natalia flicked Samuel in the ear as she passed by to get more to drink. “One day love will find you, Wanda and I hope it’s easier than it was for all of us. You deserve a soft life, darling.”  
  
“So do James and Antonio.” Wanda insisted and Ronin signed,  _nothing soft between them_ , which earned him a slap across the head from Natalia and a cackle of laughter from Samuel.  
  
“Wait I missed it.” Pietro fussed. “What did Ronin say?”  
  
“He said nothing at all.” Natalia interrupted before Samuel could answer. “Nothing at all. Eat your cake and go to bed.”  
  
****************

****************  
The weather took a turn for the worse after a few weeks, the ground frosting over and the wind howling outside the door in the evenings. Natalia and Wanda cooked full, hearty meals for the family and they ate all together around the fire, talking and laughing over Pietro’s antics or listening to Wanda read from one of her adventure novels.  
  
Natalia spent most evenings curled up in Samuel or Ronin’s lap, the twins usually bundled up under the same blanket or at least squished into the same side of the couch. James posted up near the doors and windows, unable to help his instinct to stand on the outskirts and observe, and more often than not, Tony ended up at his side.  
  
It wasn’t necessarily intentional on Tony’s part but it certainly was easy,  _comfortable_ even, dragging his chair over to sit next to James or dropping a few pillows on the floor and sitting by the soldier’s feet, resting his head back against the wall. 

The first few times James always checked to see if Natalia was comfortable and that the twins were alright before finally relaxing, but after a week or so he didn’t think anything about winding his fingers through Tony’s to hold hands as Wanda read, or resting his hand on Tony’s shoulder, rubbing lightly over the back of his neck.  
  
Natalia noticed of course, because she noticed everything, and even though Samuel and Ronin noticed as well, neither said anything about it. Pietro was blissfully ignorant about anything not revolving around food or fun, and Wanda just stole quick, curious looks at the pair as often as she could.  
  
“Do you think it’s love?” Natalia whispered one night as she lay pressed between Samuel and Ronin in bed, shivering over the remnants of the chill from the hall, facing Ronin so he could read her lips. “Do you think James loves him?”  
  
“Dunno.” Ronin replied with a shrug. “Do you think Tony loves James?”  
  
“I don’t think either of them worries about anything other than the next time they’re going to get naked.” Samuel said dryly, tucking the covers more securely around Natalia’s shoulder and winding his arm around her waist to hold onto Ronin as well. “No time to think about anything serious as often as they’ve been disappearing together.”  
  
Ronin snorted a laugh and Natalia rolled her eyes. “I thought you said James looks at Antonio like he used to look at his Steven.”  
  
“He does.” Samuel agreed. “But he and Stevie didn’t do a whole lot of  _thinking_ either, if you know what I mean.”

****************

****************  
  


“Sit, darling.” Almost a week later, Natalia pushed out a chair with her tiny foot and motioned for Tony to take it. “Sit and talk with me for a moment.”  
  
“I have chores to do, Talia.” Tony tugged on his work gloves and bent to kiss her cheek. “Can we talk later?”  
  
“No, I think we should talk now.” Natalia put her coffee cup down and pointed at the chair again. “Tell me what happened last night between you and my brother.”  
  
Tony’s jaw clenched, his back stiffening. “ _Nothing_ happened between James and I last night.”  
  
Natalia grimaced when she saw his eyes frost over. “Oh Antonio, I thought we were past you closing down when I ask questions! You trust me, don’t you? We are family, you are in love with my brother, there is no need for you to pretend with me, not anymore.”   
  
“I am  _not_ in love with James.” Tony said then, cold and calculated and almost angry and Talia’s pretty mouth opened in a perfect  _oh_. “Don’t look at me like that, Lady Romanova, I am  _not_ in love with him.”  
  
“You only call me Lady Romanova when you are hiding something.” she decided. “Sit, my love. Tell me what’s wrong. Everyone noticed when you went all noble on us last night–”  
  
“ _Noble_?”  
  
“–haughty and closed off and acting like you did when I first brought you home.” she supplied with a twinkle in her green eyes. “You act noble when you are uncomfortable and I want to know why.”  
  
“Lady Romanova–” she raised a knowing eyebrow and Tony ground his teeth in frustration. “ _Natalia_. It wasn’t anything. Aren’t I allowed to be grumpy at the end of the day? Do James and I have to spend every evening together? You’re reading too far into things.”  
  
“You were perfectly fine until James came and sat by you.” Natalia said pointedly. “Even wrapped in my loves arms with Ronin doing that entirely wicked thing he does with his tongue, I noticed. You went positively frigid when he moved over to sit by you and I don’t understand why. You can do unspeakable things with James in the barn and on those patrols that take so  _very_ long, but you can’t sit together?”  
  
Tony went nearly scarlet and Natalia’s smile was positively  _wicked_. “Antonio, we have very few secrets at the manor house. Close quarters and all that. Come and sit and tell me what you are trying so hard to hide.”  
  
Tony finally sat, dropping into the chair and putting his face in his hands, and Natalia waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.  
  
“I don’t love James.” He finally said. “My heart isn’t– it isn’t involved in what we are doing. I don’t want anything other than his body and his hands and his–his kiss.”  
  
“Ah.  _That’s_ what every woman wants to hear about her brother.” Natalia nudged at him gently. “Go on.”  
  
“He came to sit by me.” Tony muttered, as if that explained anything at all. “I’m used to being the one who  _wants_ , Talia. I’m used to having to seek out attention and time with my lover. I’ve been asked countless times to meet in a bedroom or secluded corner but—”  
  
“–but you’ve never been sought out to spend time together outside the bedroom, and think that such a request means love.” Natalia finished, then her eyes dimmed in sympathy and understanding. “And you don’t know how to properly respond to it, because you cannot tell the difference between love and lust.   
  
“I can tell the difference.”  
  
“Can you?”  
  
“I–” Tony ground his teeth in frustration. “It doesn’t matter if I can or not, really. What James and I have is only  _lust_ , our hearts aren’t involved. That’s why it’s frustrating when he sits by me, or seeks me out, or holds my hand. He doesn’t have to do those things so I don’t know why he bothers. It’s one thing for me to go to him, isn’t it? If I want to be close to him, I have to go where he is because he is always on the edges of the room, or out away from the family. I have to go to him, and that makes sense. But it  _doesn’t_ make sense at all for him to leave his regular spot and come sit by me.”  
  
“Well then why didn’t you go and sit by him last night?” she asked. “That’s why he came to you, you know. Because you didn’t go to him. Why didn’t you go to him?”   
  
“I needed some space.”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
“Stop meddling, Natalia.”  
  
“Antonio.” Natalia put her hand up to hush him. “I know how hard it is to accept honest affection, how difficult it is to believe true love can exist alongside the carnal pleasures and I  _know_ the man in your past hurt you very badly. But James is not that man, and you  _are_ not the same man that was hurt, hm?”  
  
“No. No, I suppose I’m not.”  
  
“I think you owe it to yourself to stop lying about what you feel.” She said frankly. “I’m not saying you have to love James–”  
  
“I don’t  _want_ to be in love again, Talia.” Tony blurted and her mouth clicked shut in surprise. “I can’t hurt myself again, I  _can’t_.”  
  
Tony took a few steadying breaths, hiding his face as he admitted, “Night before last, James knocked on my door and wanted to sit and have a drink. He didn’t want to take me to bed and we don’t really talk, so we had a drink and he kissed me goodnight and left…and I wanted to ask him to stay. I wanted him to stay and I felt lonely after he left and I don’t  _like_ feeling like that. I needed some space to sort through my feelings so when he sought me out last night, I panicked.”  
  
“You two haven’t been spending the night together.” Natalia tapped at her bottom lip, trying and failing to hide how surprised she was. “You get up and leave after you’re finished?”  
  
“…Yes.”  
  
“That’s–” she frowned, furrowed her brow at him. “Why, Antonio? Why wouldn’t you want to stay with him? I can hardly walk when my loves are finished with me, I can’t imagine you do much better. Why would you leave?  
  
Tony looked away, swallowing hard and Natalia’s heart broke the way it always did when she learned yet  _another_ thing Tiberius had done to Tony. “Oh my love, your man in Italy never stayed the night with you, did he?”  
  
“…No.”  
  
“Not even once. He came to you for your body and left afterwards.”  
  
“Every time.”  
  
“ _O bednyashka_.” she whispered. “You poor thing. You’ve never known the comfort of falling asleep safe and warm and held close? Waking up to your lover in the morning as the sun rises? I am so sorry for you.”  
  
“Don’t do that.” Tony shifted away from her, folding his arms defensively. “Staying the night, seeking each other out– those are the sort of things you do when you’re in love. It’s become  _painfully_ obvious Ty didn’t love me and I don’t need reminded.”  
  
“No, no of course you don’t.” Natalia pursed her lips, thinking her next words through carefully. “Antonio darling, I’m not going to say you are in love with James, or that my brother is in love with you, but would it be the worst to admit you care? Even a little?”  
  
“I  _don’t_ care.”  
  
“Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be so anxious.” she corrected gently. “Would the world stop spinning if you didn’t leave next time? If you stayed the night? There are many  _many_ steps between taking someone to bed and handing them your heart, you know. I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’re at least a step or two past simply sleeping with James, aren’t you?”  
  
“…a step or two.” Tony admitted, flushing clear to his ears. “I– yes. A step or two. At least.”  
  
“Well then.” Natalia had to bite her lip to hide her pleased smile. “Perhaps you stop worrying so much and let yourself enjoy it. After all, I have it on good authority my brother is  _at least_  a step or two past simply sleeping with you as well.”  
  
“On good authority?” Tony repeated and Natalia wiggled her eyebrows, “Samuel and Ronin are terrible gossips, darling. Worse than old women, I think it’s an American thing.  
  
“ _Ugh_.”  
  
“Oh stop that, you married into a family of spies, what did you expect?” Talia kicked at his foot teasingly. “You’ll think about what I said, won’t you? Don’t be afraid of the little steps like this, you are still a long way from losing your heart entirely, right?”  
  
“Right.” Tony stood back up and put on his gloves again. “Still a long way from losing my heart.”  
  
Natalia smiled and watched him go, wondering if Tony knew that his nose twitched every time he lied.  
  
***************  
  
“ _Tony_.” James groaned when Tony went to his knees, when the gorgeous red lips opened wide to slip over his length, agile tongue twisting across the sensitive tip until he was seeing stars. “ _Bozhe moy_ , you are too much, too much,  _ne slishkom bystro_ , sweet thing not too fast– I won’t last very long.”  
  
“Come on, then.” Tony’s dark eyes were hazy with drink from dinner, beautiful mouth stretched into a smile as he ran his fingers invitingly over his bottom lip. “It’s high time you found out how good I am at this sort of thing, don’t you think?”  
  
“You’re gorgeous.” James panted and Tony palmed down the front of his own trousers with an impatient whine, torn between wanting to bask in the compliment, and  _panicking_ because of how much he loved when James said things like that.  
  
“I don’t care about that, you don’t have to say that, just–” he swallowed James down again, hollowing his cheeks and humming low in his throat and James’s hands landed helplessly in Tony’s hair, carding through the curls and tugging in aborted little movements as if he was holding himself back.  
  
Tony hummed again, pulled off with a lewd  _pop_ and assured him, “I can handle it. Come on, take my mouth, it’s alright.”  
  
And he  _could_ take it, Tiberius had made  _sure_ Tony could do this sort of thing without so much as his eyes watering but James was bigger than Ty had been, thicker and longer and Tony gagged around the length before he remembered to calm his breathing and let his throat relax. Then it was  _easy_ to let his eyes half close and his jaw go slack, to let James tip his head just right to slide across his tongue over and over in a drugging sort of rhythm.  
  
“Gorgeous.” James crooned, brushing his knuckles over Tony’s cheek where he could see the bulge of  _himself_ shoving through the beautiful skin. “Tony Tony Tony– fuck, you’re  _perfect_. Jus’ perfect sweet thing, could have you like this forever don’t stop– don’t stop–”  
  
Tony didn’t let up, didn’t pull away even when he couldn’t hardly breathe around the cock thrusting to the back of his throat, even when James warned him, “M’gonna come Tony, pull off so I don’t choke you.” and he didn’t pull away when James finally spilled hot down his throat and out the sides of his mouth.  
  
“You don’t have to say that, you know.” Tony wiped at his lips and licked his fingers, his voice scratchy from taking James so far. “If you don’t want to, I mean.”  
  
“Don’t have to say what?” James  _loved_ to pick Tony up, loved to wrap his hands around that little waist and manhandle Tony onto the bed and he did exactly that, laying Tony back against the pillows.  
  
“You don’t have to call me nice things.” Tony kicked out of his pants when James pulled at them, spreading his legs and biting back a moan when fingers explored low between his thighs and a tongue slid slick across his entrance. “Lovely and sweet thing. You don’t have to do that. I know you don’t mean them.”  
  
James paused in lifting one of Tony’s ankles over his shoulder. “You don’t like when I call you sweet thing?“  
  
“No—“ Tony’s breath caught when James hitched his other leg up as well, spreading him open. “No, I like it. I’m saying you don’t  _have_ to.”  
  
“Do you want me to stop?”  
  
“N-no?”  
  
“Then I won’t.” Bucky parted the round cheeks and sealed his lips over the puckered entrance, driving his tongue inside over and over until Tony’s hips were bucking against his face and thighs clamping around his ears.  
  
And only after Tony had come  _shouting_ , yanking at the blankets and crying James’s name did the soldier lean over and cover Tony in a long kiss, murmuring, “But you should know I mean every word I say,  _sweet thing_.”  
  
“Can I stay with you?” Tony asked then, keeping his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to see any rejectionin James’s expression. “I mean, if you want me to. If you wouldn’t mind. Can I stay with you?”

” _Konechno_ , beauty. Of course you can.“  
  
****************  
  
The next morning James and Tony came down to the kitchen at the same time, and when James bent for a kiss after getting a cup of coffee, Tony jumped to his feet so fast the chair clattered back to the ground, standing on his toes and yanking James back for another kiss and then  _another._

He didn’t bother quieting his moan when big hands slipped low around his hips and then lower still, until James had gathered Tony right up into his body and was nearly  _growling_ as Tony tried to wriggle even closer. 

“In front of my breakfast?” Samuel asked in exasperation, then yelped when Natalia kicked him in the shin. “ _Ow_! Why–”  
  
“Hush, you.” she demanded, looking very close to tears as she watched James whisper something soft into Tony’s ear. “Just let them be sweet together.”  


	13. Chapter 13

Tucked away in the manor, it was easy to forget there was a revolution waging outside the quiet valley, 

Ronin and Samuel were two of the most brutal soldiers on either side of the ocean, but they were nothing but soft with the woman they loved and with the twins they had adopted as their own. 

A stranger would never think the man currently sharing the last cup of coffee with his Italian lover, trading smiles and leaning in for a slow kiss was the one the rebel army called  _komandir_ , a soldier who tracked kills by the dozens and inspired horror stories.   
  
It seemed  _impossible_ that the beautiful Natalia was a spy and an assassin in her own right, one of the best in Russia and perhaps even one of the best in the world, and that the twins for all their laughter and general shenanigans were more dangerous than the average Tsar’s man, Wanda with her knives and Pietro’s skill with a rifle coming along quickly.  
  
The manor was beautiful but beneath the facade the house was a fortress, with guns stashed in false panels of decorative columns, a hidden tunnel beneath the pantry floor, far more knives in the kitchen than could ever be necessary and caches of ammunition tucked into the walls. 

The home was cozy and warm, the family inside full of laughter and genuine affection, and it was  _easy_ to forget the awfulness of real life when here in their pocket of Sokovia, all was well.   
  
Or at least, when all was well for the  _moment_. 

****************

“Good morning.” Samuel came up on Ronin’s good side and ducked in to give him a kiss, winding his arms around his love and pulling the man in close. “How are you?”  
  
“Morning.” Ronin mumbled, twisting the strap of Samuel’s suspenders and yanking him back for another one. “Doin’ better now.” 

Ronin and Samuel didn’t do this sort of thing often, or at least not often when just the two of them.

 _Before_ Talia and before coming to Russia, the men had been half in love and refusing to say anything about it, both worried about losing their best friend if the feelings were unrequited, both worried being romantic together would lead to trouble with other soldiers  or compromise the safety of missions if acting on their feelings proved too much of a distraction.  
  
But since meeting and falling in love with Natalia, Samuel  _reveled_ in the freedom to be as sweet with Ronin as he wanted– holding hands and sharing kisses, curling up together in bed on the nights Talia stayed up late or when she woke before them in the morning. Ronin wasn’t as physically affectionate as Samuel but he never said  _no_ and never turned away and sometimes, sometimes in quiet moments when it was just the two of them,  _sometimes_ the archer clung to Samuel as if he never wanted to let go.  
  
Moments like now, when Ronin pulled Samuel further into the carriage house and leaned back against the wall to encourage him closer, widening his stance so Samuel could cage him in with powerful arms and kiss him senseless.  
  
“Good morning.” Samuel said again, his laugh little more than a huff of breath. “Something on your mind, Ronin?”  
  
Ronin shrugged and pulled him back again, strong hands tracking down Samuel’s side to his waist and then settling lower over his hips. “Content.” he finally said into Samuel’s ear. “Life is good right now.”  
  
“Yeah.” Samuel budged his nose to the soft spot behind Ronin’s ear, trailed kisses down his neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Natalia’s happy and Tony’s settled in, the twins are doin’ alright and James has finally quit pacing like a fuckin’ nervous animal… life’s good.”  
  
“Think it’ll last?”  
  
“Nope.” Samuel shook his head regretfully, easing away from Ronin so he could actually help with the chores. “Never has before. I know better than’ta get my hopes up.”  
  
Ronin didn’t reply, only adjusted himself in his pants with a half smile that made Samuel  _highly_ consider abandoning chores for at least an hour to do something else, and went back to his work.  
  
But after a few more minutes–  
  
“You think James loves him? Tony, I mean. Think it’s love?”  
  
“Don’t see what else it could be.” Samuel automatically moved closer, made sure Ronin could see his lips as they talked. “James never even  _looked_ at anyone after Steve, but you see how he is with Tony. Seeking him out, wanting to stay the night, smiling all the time, touchin’ him.”  
  
 _Kissing_. Ronin signed, and then added out loud, “In front of us, you know? Think he realizes he’s doin’ it?”  
  
“I don’t think he does.” Another quick shake of Samuel’s head. “That’s why I think it’s love. James does all the things he did with Steve, ‘cept he does it without noticing. It’s easy. Doesn’t have to think about it, so it just happens.”  
  
“S’good for him. He’s been alone too long. Been hangin’ onto the memory of Steve too long.”  
  
“Yeah, he has but…” Samuel hesitated. “…but I don’t know if what he’s doing with Tony is  _good_. Thought it would be good for him to take a break from fighting and reconcile with Talia but now m’worried it’s too much too fast. Neither him nor Tony want to be in love and I’m just waiting for the day they realize they’ve gone and fallen for each other. Only one of two ways that will end, and I don’t think it will be with a wedding.”  
  
 _Leave_. Ronin signed.  _James. Run away. Tony too._  
  
“Yeah, and Natalia will be left behind heartbroken.” Samuel finished. “ _Again_. We’ve got to get her out of here, Ronin. Want to give her more than this, more than temporary happiness.”  
  
“I know.” Ronin spoke again. “But I don’t think she’ll leave home. Not with James still fighting, not without something guaranteed for the twins.”  
  
Samuel worked in silence for a minute. “…this would happen faster if we went back to war with James. Couple years now we’ve only been around for the big battles, but if we were there at his side for even the smaller ones we could make a difference. Might be worth leaving Talia and Tony and the twins alone for a season.”  
  
 _Don’t want to leave_. Robin signed with a frown. “Don’t want to leave the kids, don’t want to leave home. I’m tired of fighting.”  
  
“Me too, love.” Samuel leaned in for another kiss, gently tracing the scar that split Ronin from temple to chin. “I’m tired of fighting too. But if it brings everything to an end…”  
  
“What would bring everything to an end?” James interrupted them just then, stomping into the carriage house and retrieving the shot gun set over the door. “Actually  _doin_ ’ your chores instead of standing here kissing on each other?”  
  
“What’s the shot gun for?” Samuel knew James had no actual issue with he and Ronin kissing, so he ignored the comment and asked, “What happened?”  
  
James jerked his head towards the house. “Came up from the forest on Zima and saw two men heading towards the manor. No additional soldiers in sight but I’m not taking any chances.”  
  
“Who the  _hell_ –” Softer moments and conversation put aside for later, Samuel snatched at the twin set of pistols tucked away behind the bench as Ronin grabbed a rifle from the closet and all three men tore out of the carriage house and ran for the manor, weapons at the ready.  
  
Natalia was standing at the door of the house with her arms folded over her chest and chin raised high as the unwelcome guests tried to talk to her, and James’s run slowed just a little when he saw Tony at the top step as well, a revolver held at his side, his free hand firmly around Natalia’s waist.  
  
“You have no business coming to my home.” Natalia was saying, her green eyes flitting up and over the strangers shoulders when she saw Ronin and Samuel, but her steady expression never wavering. “There is such a thing as the  _post_ , gentlemen.  _Use it_.”  
  
“Madame Romanova, you are being brought to trial on charges of–”  
  
“She’s not being brought to trial on charges of anything.” Tony interrupted coolly and both men turned to look at him, obviously surprised by the thick Italian accent and haughtiness. “You have an important looking piece of paper that strongly  _suggests_ the Lady Romanova come along with you to be questioned and nothing more.”  
  
“Now see here–”  
  
“No no no.” Tony cut the man off again and Natalia’s cheeks shaded a soft,  _pleased_ pink at the show of protectiveness. “ _You_ see here. You came all this way to try and bully a woman into accompanying you back to the city, and yet there are no soldiers with you. That means you assumed she was here alone,  _indifesa_ , unprotected and easily scared. You thought to intimidate her with official documents and and accusations, and yet you have no real power to do anything at all, do you?”  
  
“Well we– our orders–” The taller of the two men straightened his jacket and put his nose in the air. “I wouldn’t expect a  _foreigner_ to understand, but the Lady Romanova knows that refusing to accompany is as much an admission of her guilt as anything. A truly loyal citizen has nothing to fear from their government and would come along quietly to honestly answer any questions we have.”  
  
“A truly loyal citizen has nothing to fear.” Tony repeated and Natalia snorted in disbelief. “Lies of the highest sort.”  
  
“The Lady  _will_ accompany us.” The second man swept aside his coat to show a set of pistols, an obvious attempt at intimidation. “And you  _will_ step aside. There is no need for this to end in bloodshed.”  
  
Tony only smiled and Talia turned her nose into his shoulder to laugh quietly. “ _Mio Amico_. The lady is going nowhere. And you should have brought soldiers, because this will absolutely end in bloodshed.”  
  
“I beg to diff—“ there was suddenly a blade to the man’s throat and his eyes bugged out in alarm as James leaned in and  _growled_ , “He’s right. You shoulda brought soldiers.”  
  
*************  
  
The men were buried out past the end of the orchard, a fire built to soften the cold ground while they sat bound and gagged at the base of a tree, Tony and Ronin standing guard as Samuel and James dug a grave.  
  
Then it was James who put a bullet though each their foreheads, telling Tony, “Look away, sweet thing. This isn’t pretty.”  
  
Tony looked away and  _grimaced_ over the thud of bodies falling limp to the ground, but he didn’t shy away when it came to heaving them into the rough graves, nor did he balk at being handed a shovel to throw the dirt back over the hole.  
  
James lit a cigarette when they were finished, boots planted firmly atop the freshly turned dirt and when Ronin and Samuel went back to the manor house to find Natalia and the twins, Tony stayed behind.  
  
“Give it here.” He said quietly, and James handed the cigarette over without a word, taking a step away and folding his arms to wait, watching as Tony inhaled deep and closed his eyes.  
  
“It’s a good thing you did for my sister.” He said after a moment, and Tony blinked at him in a silent question. “Stalling the men, standing with her so she wasn’t alone. A good thing.”  
  
“The  _right_ thing.” Tony countered with a careless shrug, digging at the dirt with the toe of his boot and wondering why he didn’t feel even a flicker of remorse for the men they’d buried. “I’d like to think it’s the sort of thing I'd’ have always done, but I doubt it. The person Talia met at the masquerade would have turned and walked away from a situation like that, not stood and faced them down.”  
  
“Sokovia’s changed you.” James took the cigarette back. “Even the way you speak. Didn’t notice it till you talked to these bastards there at the house, but you’re not half as posh as you used to be.”  
  
“Hm.” Tony said non committedly, watching with heavy lidded eyes as James exhaled noisily, smoke clouding up around his face before wafting away in the breeze. “I suppose Sokovia  _has_ changed me. For the better, I hope.”  
  
James startled when there were suddenly warm lips mashed against his own, Tony gripping tight at his arms for a moment before pulling away. “What—“ he cleared his throat. “What was that for?”  
  
“Never knew someone who would actually kill to protect the person they love.” Tony retreated back a few steps again and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not even family. Brescia was involved in a civil war too, you know. But as nobles…” he shook his head. “It’s one thing to be taught to defend yourself, another to defend someone  _else_ , to take a life to protect another. And you do it without hesitating. Incredible.”  
  
“It’s not incredible, Tony.” James looked down at the fresh grave and then out towards the clouds gathering on the horizon. “Not romantic or brave or anything else you might think. It’s war, it’s revolution, it’s  _necessary_. I can kill ‘em without pausing cos I’ve done it before, over and over more times than I can count. I’ve got blood on my hands that’ll never come off and sure, it helps protect my family and this revolution needs to be fought but it’s—“ 

James swallowed and flicked the cigarette away. “—it’s all I know how to do, Tony. Wage war and soak my hands in blood. You don’t want this. Stop lookin’ at me like you think it’s  _incredible_.”  
  
“I don’t see it.” Tony said then, and James narrowed his eyes to ask, “Don’t see  _what_?”  
  
“The blood.” Tony replied and went to head back to the manor, shovel slung casually over his shoulder. “You’re a good man, James.”  
  
 _You’re a good man, James._  
  
The words echoed in James’s mind, uncomfortably reminiscent of the words the  _last_ person he kissed had said, words whispered into his skin as fingers twined through his, ignoring the cuts and scrapes and blood to lean close and whisper, “ _You’re a good man, Bucky. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different._ ” and when James had shaken his head, “ _No one who loves me like you do could ever be bad.”_  
  
James watched Tony go with something  _awful_ growing in his stomach, something uncertain and entirely familiar all at once, something that made bright blue eyes and a heart stopping grin flash through his mind and then made him want to vomit with a wash of anxiety and a terrified twist of  _wrong_.  
  
 _You’re a good man James.  
  
_ _No, no I’m not. Don’t say that. Don’t get your hopes up._

“Come on.” Tony jerked his head towards the house, pulling James from his thoughts. “Lets see Talia and make sure she’s alright.”  
  
James followed without a word, putting several steps worth of distance between he and Tony as they walked, and if Tony noticed, he didn’t comment on it and neither did James.  
  
Their hearts weren’t involved so there was no reason to ask why James was suddenly distant, why he didn’t brush close against Tony’s back as they came through the side door of the kitchen, why he didn’t take the opportunity for a kiss as they hung their coats in the small lean to.  
  
There was no reason to ask, so Tony pretended as if he hadn’t even noticed, crossing the kitchen to kneel by Talia’s chair and rub his hands soothingly up and her down her thighs, sending Pietro a quick smile when the boy set a cup of tea down on the table.  
  
“I’m being ridiculous.” Natalia blew her nose on Wanda’s hankie and crumpled it in her fist. “This isn’t hardly anything,  _nothing_ like what I’ve faced before. It was a couple of bureaucrats with more self importance than authority and I’m–” Tears again, and Ronin wrapped an arm around Talia’s shoulders, hugging her back against his chest. “I’m a mess, I’m sorry. I should be more put together but–”  
  
“S’fine, Natalia.” James folded his arms and leaned against the counter, studiously avoiding looking at Tony when he said, “Buried them out behind the orchards, so there won’t be any more trouble.”  
  
“And when people come looking for those men? Asking about what happened?” she challenged and this time it was Samuel who answered, “It’s a big orchard, love. Lots of room.“  
  
“I forget sometimes.” Natalia blew her nose again and took a sip of her tea. “Things have been so good and it’s been so nice to have everyone home and I forget about everything else. About the war and the–the warrants out for me.” she shook her head. “Stupid of me.”  
  
“Not stupid.” Wanda soothed. “I’m sure we all do that sort of thing, especially lately. Our day to day has been so peaceful, of course it’s easy to forget all the bad going on outside our valley. Not stupid, Talia. I understand.”  
  
“Sure was funny to hear Tony talk like that though.” Pietro teased, swooping in to kiss Talia’s cheek. “All posh and pretty. It was almost like when he first came home and pretended to be fancy.”  
  
“I was never  _pretending_ to be fancy, Pietro.” Tony said wryly, pushing to his feet to make room for Samuel to hold Natalia instead. “I can’t help that Italian nobility talk different than you. But I have learned nothing discourages nosy people more than a haughty attitude and sense of entitlement and Italian nobility have  _both_ those characteristics in spades.”  
  
“So long as you’re aware of your shortcomings.” Wanda winked at Tony and Samuel didn’t bother muffling his laugh as he scooped Talia into his arms and motioned for Ronin to follow him up the stairs to their bedroom.  
  
“Come along, Pietro.” Wanda gathered up the cups and put them in the wash basin, tossing the discarded hankies towards the laundry. “Natalia will be occupied the rest of the afternoon and I’m sure James and Antonio would rather not have us hanging around. Come read my new novel with me.”  
  
“Why don’t James and Antonio want us around?”  
  
“Pietro.” Wanda raised her eyebrows pointedly. “ _Come along_.”  
  
James looked down to hide his smile over Pietro’s disgruntled muttering and Wanda’s unexpected perceptiveness, and only when the twins had left the room did he move to get a drink of his own, pouring a healthy measure of vodka and tossing it back in one gulp.  
  
“She’s right you know.” Tony held out a glass and James filled it, not allowing himself to linger over the movement of Tony’s throat like he had so many times before. “About how it’s easy to forget what all is out there when life at home is so good.”  
  
“Hm.” James drained another helping of the liquor. “And what are you finding so easy to forget these days, Tony?”  
  
There was a flash of vulnerability in Tony’s dark eyes then, just a flicker and then it was gone, and James didn’t allow himself to think about it, keeping his gaze and voice neutral as he asked, “What  _exactly_ makes life here so good?”  
  
Tony’s throat worked as he swallowed and James could physically  _see_ the beautiful brunette’s walls go up, could see the careful blankness that had been present so often when they had first began their dance, when they’d first started to step so delicately around whatever  _this_ was between them. 

It was the sort of blankness that had Tony nearly running from bed the first few times they finished, the blankness that had kept those gorgeous smiles tempered and the laughs quiet and had led Tony to tell James “ _You don’t have to say nice things to me._ ”  
  
It had been mostly erased in the last several weeks though, starting with Tony admitting that he liked being called sweet things, leading to him asking to stay the night, culminating in drugging,  _addictive_ moments stolen in the barn or in corners or in the hall as they passed one another during the day. Tony was seeking James out now, pressing close for longer and longer kisses, murmuring soft things in Italian when they were in bed, laughing and smiling and learning where his slight frame fit perfectly into James’s arms.  
  
The blankness had nearly disappeared but it  _back_ now, dulling the shine of Tony’s eyes and straightening his mouth to a flat line, his chin tipping up in the familiar challenge that marked so many of their early interactions.  
  
“I’d have to say the alcohol.” Tony said then, cool and calm and collected and any other time, James would have laughed at the dripping sarcasm. “Even though the coffee is good as well.”  
  
“Of course it’s the coffee.”  
  
“ _Only_ the coffee.”  
  
They stared at each other for another minute, James’s internal struggle written across his face, Tony unwilling to ask what was wrong.  
  
Being vulnerable in the dark was one thing, being open and shaky and  _real_ when James was buried inside him or after they’d come together or when their kisses were deep and searching and greedy.  
  
 _This_ was another thing altogether, and Tony finished his drink in silence, then turned and walked away.  
  
James let him go, biting his tongue until it bled so he wouldn’t call out and ask Tony to come to his room.  
  
Instead he climbed the stairs alone and barred the door to his chambers, dug around in a bag he’d brought home from the States, reached into a pocket for a sketchbook he hadn’t looked at in months and pulled out a picture.  
  
Then James opened a fresh bottle of vodka and sprawled back on his bed, staring at the young men in the picture, one blond hair and blue eyed, tall and fit and gorgeous, the other one James back when he’d been  _Bucky_ , back when the only scars on his body were the ones Natalia’s Da had left, back when Stevie could make him laugh with nothing more than a look and a waggle of eyebrows.  
  
 _You’re a good man, Bucky. No one could love me like you do and be bad. I just don’t believe it.  
_  
James put the picture down and picked the bottle up, and spent the rest of the evening convincing himself he didn’t want to break down Tony’s door and lose another night together.  
  
 _His heart wasn’t involved.  
  
No no no._  
  
************  
************  
  
It had been years since James had let himself drink enough- or be  _emotional_ enough– to give himself a hangover, but the next morning at chores he was surly and nauseous, flinching away from the light and cursing anytime anyone spoke in anything above a whisper.  
  
Natalia and Wanda had no sympathy for a man who drank himself half to death and then  _complained_ , but Samuel and Ronin at least took over the louder chores and let James stay up in the loft pitching hay into the stables with Pietro.  
  
Pietro had yet to develop a filter for his mouth and a face that didn’t give away everything he was thinking, so after nearly an hour of working in silence and trying to ignore Pietro’s various expressions, James sighed and said, “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop. It isn’t your business.”  
  
“You dunno what I’m thinking.” the boy scoffed, and then just as quickly, “Why do you and Tony pretend you don’t love each other? Natalia always says if you fall in love you should tell the person as often as possible just in case they don’t come home one day.”  
  
“Pietro.” James tied his hair up and away from his face and went back to work. “Tony and I just share a bed every once in a while is all. There are all sort of steps between fuckin’ someone and loving them. The two things aren’t th’same.”   
  
“Well sure they are.” Pietro leaned on his pitchfork, scratching at his chin idly. “You love someone so you take them to bed. That’s what Natalia says. And you and Tony– all you two  _do_ is go to bed. Of course you love him.”  
  
“Of course I–” James clenched his jaw. “My sister has every right to only bed someone she loves. But that doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone.”  
  
“But Natalia says–”  
  
“Son, maybe you should stop taking everything Natalia says as the gospel truth!” James snapped, then cringed away from the echo in his head, muttering an annoyed oath at being so hungover. “My sister might be a spy, but that doesn’t mean she sees or even understands what Tony and I are doing. Furthermore, it’s none of anyone’s business so leave. it. alone.”  
  
Pietro had never left anything alone a day in his life, and James cursed again when the kid shrugged. “M’just saying it’s obvious how you and Tony feel. You act grumpy but you smile all big when he looks at you. And he acts like he doesn’t love when you kiss him but afterwards he gets melty and sweet.”

Pietro shot another look at James and cracked a grin. “Least that’s what Wanda says. I just think he looks stupid. Same way Ronin and Sam look after Natalia kisses them. Do all men get dumb when we fall in love?”  
  
James didn’t want to smile, he  _didn’t_. He was miserable this morning and he couldn’t get Tony out of his mind, couldn’t get the picture of  _Steve_ out of his mind and he wasn’t sure if another drink would help or hurt his thought process but  _enough_ drinks might numb everything again and that would be ideal.  
  
He didn’t want to smile but Pietro was so frankly honest, so hilarious in his relative innocence, so matter of fact and unabashed in his opinions that James offered a begrudging smile anyway, sighing out loud as he said, “ _Konechno_. Of course we are all dumb when we fall in love. You’ll see.” 

“One day some beauty will steal your heart and we will all laugh at you as you walk into walls and trip over your feet and moon about like a love struck fool. You’ll smile when they kiss you and do ridiculous things like launder the same shirt over and over because they like when you wear it. You’ll buy useless trinkets and over priced flowers and start thinking that marriage is the single greatest thing in the world.”  
  
James’s smile tipped towards sad, his eyes clouding melancholy. “You’ll learn to cook just to impress him, listen to the old men tell jokes around the fire so you can repeat them and make him laugh. You’ll fall in love with a  _laugh_ , if you can believe that. You’ll fall in love with a smile and a single expression that no one else could ever copy and the way he looks in the morning and the way his hair never falls flat and–”  
  
One of the horses knocked against the stall door, startling James out of his reverie and back to the moment, to Pietro’s semi-confused expression.  
  
“You don’t have to love some one to take them to bed.” James finished after a minute. “Not in the least. But it– it sure makes things special if you do.”  
  
“Huh.” Pietro thought about what James had said, and then– “You talking about Tony or the other one?”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“You don’t talk about him.” Pietro brought another bale over and cut the twine so they could separate it. “About the one you loved in America. But is that who you were talking about? With the smile and hair?”  
  
“Um–” James stared at the kid in shock because he’d  _meant_ to be talking about Steve, he did, all he’d been thinking about for  _days_ was Steve but suddenly all he could see in his mind was dark eyes and darker curls. “I um–”  
  
“Is that why you don’t love Tony, cos you still love your American?” Pietro couldn’t ever keep his mouth shut, even if it was obvious the other person didn’t want to continue the conversation. “Thought you loved Tony, specially the way you were looking at him after he stood up for Talia with those men? But then you started avoiding him and then you started drinking and–now you’re cranky. Like you were when you first came home.”  
  
“I’m not avoiding Tony.” James lied, uncomfortable that his unease over the situation was spilling over enough for  _Pietro_ to notice. “And even if I was–”  
  
“It’s a small house.” Pietro pointed out. “You’re avoiding him. Why though? Don’t you want to love again? Talia says it’s good for a broken heart to love again and that’s why you and Tony are so great for each other. And she says–”  
  
“That’s enough.”  
  
“I’m just saying–”  
  
“That’s  _enough_!”  
  
“Pietro!” Samuel called from down below, the strain in his voice proof that he’d overheard their conversation. “Come down and help me with the– with the– the chickens.”  
  
“I already did the chickens!” Pietro called back in confusion and Samuel cursed, “Boy, get your ass down here right now before you say something stupid!”  
  
Pietro went with a grumble about how this family had too many secrets, how no one ever told him  _anything_ , and how he’d already fed the damn chickens, leaving James alone in the loft with his rapidly deteriorating thoughts and the melody of an all too familiar song running round in his head.  
  
It was a tune James learned in America when he’d fought against the Southern states with Samuel, Ronin and the others. It was catchy and light hearted, one he and the boys had sang to keep morale up as they marched, one he’d hummed at night around the fire while Samuel had played harmonica and one Stevie used to caterwaul to when he was drunk, slurring the words as he threw his arms around James’s shoulders and attempted a few clumsy dance steps.  
  
Almost ten years since he’d even heard the song, and it still hurt deep in some wintered part of James’s soul to think about blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and the way Stevie had flushed in the moonlight every time they kissed.  
  
Almost ten years and James could still hear the way Stevie had always  _cackled_ at his own terrible jokes, how he had told highly embellished stories with a hand over his heart as if he truly might expire from his own hilarity.  
  
Almost ten years and James could still hear the way Stevie had called him  _Bucky_ in that breathless, teasing sort of way just before they tumbled onto the bed roll together, before Stevie had mapped his body with knowing lips and grasping fingers, before they’d come together over and over, night after night, lost in each others arms and each others eyes and the certainty that their love would never fade.  
  
But it had faded, hadn’t it? Otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking about how pretty Tony looked spread out on his bed, or how easy it was to kiss him senseless or how Tony saying he didn’t see any blood on James’s hands had about stunned him speechless, had given him the sort of  _hope_ he’d never thought he’d feel again.  
  
Their love had faded, or James wouldn’t have spent last night drowning himself in a bottle while staring at an old photograph, replaying every memory he had of  _Steve_ to try and convince himself he didn’t want Tony.  
  
Their love had faded just like whoever  _Bucky_ was had faded, washed away in bloodshed and battle lust and the taste of  _war_ James had courted for so many years.  
  
 _No one called him Bucky anymore, not after Stevie._  
  
 _He wasn’t Bucky at all._  
  
James threw the pitchfork with a grunt of annoyance, sliding down the ladder to the floor and landing with a thump, fully intent on crawling back into a bottle and back into bed, but stopped when Samuel put a hand on his arm.  
  
“Hes right, you know.” came the quiet words, and James growled, “ _Who is_?”  
  
“Pietro.” Samuel said patiently. “He’s right about you and Tony.”  
  
“Samuel–”  
  
“After Steve passed–”  
  
“ _Sam_!”  
  
“After Steve passed–” Samuel kept his voice steady but his grip firm. “–you never smiled again. You never touched anyone, not even us, not even for a hug. You never let anyone close. But you let Tony close all the time, and it’s like you don’t even notice you’re doing it.”  
  
James made a frustrated noise and Samuel pressed, “That’s a good thing, James. It is. Loving Tony again could be really good for you as long as you don’t run from it. Stop running.”  
  
“I don’t love him.” James wrenched away from Samuel and put a hand to his pounding head. “I don’t love him. I barely even like him. He’s just– he’s just warm.  _Soft_. Someone to pass the nights with.”  
  
“You’re a terrible liar.” Samuel smiled to ease the sting of his words. “But fine, I won’t say you love Tony.” he glanced over to Ronin, who nodded in encouragement. “But would it be the worst thing if you did?”  
  
James went very still, flushing a dull, angry red. “Leave it alone, Samuel.”  
  
Samuel left it alone.  
  
****************  
****************  
  
The tension in the manor house rose to almost palpable levels after that, with James withdrawing into himself to the point of not even speaking as he went through morning chores, taking Zima out into the cold for day long rides, and remaining stubbornly silent through evening duties.  
  
No longer did he join the family for dinner around the fire or when Wanda read from one of her novels or when Pietro cajoled Ronin and Samuel into teaching him how to play cards. No longer did he greet Natalia at breakfast with a smile, or offer to fill her or Wanda’s cup when they had tea.  
  
Everyone weapon in the house was meticulously taken apart, cleaned and put back together, the woodshed stocked to overfull, James’s movements steady through the chores and almost  _menacing_ in their intensity, the pale eyes never once flickering with any sort of warmth.  
  
Tony pretended he didn’t notice even though everyone knew he did, and he pretended James’s sudden withdrawal had nothing to do with him, though everyone knew the truth, and when Natalia came to talk to him, Tony fended off her worries with a short smile and nonchalant shrug.  
  
“It’s fine, Natalia.”  
  
“It’s not fine, love.” she said worriedly, chewing at her thumbnail as she watched James carry load after load of firewood into the house. “It’s not fine. What happened between you two? Things were going so well and now they are awful. What happened?”  
  
“Nothing happened.” Tony turned his head away so she wouldn’t see the flash of hurt, the  _loneliness_ he couldn’t seem to shake. “Nothing happened between us because there is  _nothing_ between us. Our hearts are not–”  
  
“Oh, if either of you say your hears are not involved one more time, I might actually stab you.” Natalia said tightly. “My brother was smiling for the first time in years and you finally stopped looking like a kicked puppy and now–”  
  
“A kicked puppy? I don’t really think–”  
  
“That’s exactly what you looked like.” Natalia snorted. “A kicked puppy desperate for affection and he didn’t look much better. What  _happened_ between you?”  
  
“Nothing! Nothing happened Natalia! Leave it alone!”  
  
“Antonio–!” Natalia paused when James came back into the house, stopping by parlor door and fixing his eyes directly on Tony. “–I’ll leave you two be. Come and find me later, please?”  
  
Neither man spoke as Natalia hurried from the room, and neither man spoke after she’d left, James watching Tony with an unblinking gaze, Tony looking at the floor with hands clasped tight in his lap.  
  
“Come to bed with me tonight.” James finally said, and Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t want to talk about what’s going on and I know you won’t ask, but it’s been a week and I’m tired of being away from you. Come to bed with me tonight so I can forget for a little while.”  
  
“…no.” Tony answered slowly. “…No, I won’t.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I won’t come to bed with you so you can forget.” Tony said, clearer this time. “You’re right, I won’t ask what’s been going on and I know you won’t tell me, but I’m not  _stupid_ , James. I know something I said after we buried those men upset you and now you’ve been avoiding me and that’s fine. It’s-” he cleared his throat. “It’s  _fine_. But I won’t go a week being treated as if I don’t exist and then fall into bed with you as if all is well. I deserve better than that.”  
  
“Tony–”  
  
“I said no.” Tony stood and folded his arms, miming James’s posture. “I will not be stress relief for someone who won’t give me the time of day. Not again.“  
  
And James was tempted, he was  _tempted_ to draw Tony close and bury his face in those dark curls and blurt out how confused he was, how he felt like he was betraying Steve’s memory, how he was afraid to feel anything other than anger and how Tony made him feel something so much like hope and happiness that it was frightening.  
  
He was tempted to whisper into Tony’s ear and confess he didn’t understand their connection, didn’t understand how such an intense initial attraction had slid so easily into  _more_ even if  ~~they~~ he was too scared to admit it. He was tempted to ask if Tony felt it too, tempted to erase that stubborn blankness with a kiss, to demand that Tony tell him the  _truth_ about what they feltbecause James had never so uncertain of anything in his life and it was practically killing him.  
  
But James didn’t do any of those things.  
  
Instead he nodded just once to indicate he had heard Tony and understood the other man’s reasoning, that he was respecting Tony’s boundaries and wouldn’t be arguing or  _insisting_ or giving any hint to the way he really felt, then turned on his heel to leave.  
  
 _Except_ –  
  
“James.” Samuel burst into the room just as James was leaving and put a hand to stop him. “A visitor at the gates.”  
  
“Another?” James frowned. “Who is it this time?”  
  
Samuel shot an unreadable glance towards Tony. “It’s Rumlow. And he seemed  _very_ surprised to find out we were all still here.”  
  
“Why would Rumlow be surprised we’re still here?” Tony cut in. “Why would he have any reason to think we  _wouldn’t_ be here?”  
  
James’s jaw set in a tense line, and he shrugged out of his coat so the pistol tucked into his shoulder holder was more easily accessible.  
  
“Well now. That’s exactly what I intend to find out.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Well well well, aren’t we all just one big happy family tucked away safe and sound in Sokovia.” Brock Rumlow walked through the manor house as if he owned it, pushing past Pietro without bothering to make eye contact, swaggering and  _smirking_ and eyeing up Wanda in a way that had her brother unhooking a knife from his belt and twirling it through his fingers threateningly.  
  
“Wanda.” Brock tipped his hat at the girl, a smile more slimy than cheerful pasting across his features. “Don’t think you were this pretty the last time I came around.”  
  
“That’s because  _last_ time you came around, I hid away in my room so I didn’t have to see you.” came Wanda’s tight lipped answer. “I’d have done the same thing this time but your visit is such an unwanted surprise, I didn’t have time to prepare.””  
  
“You should watch your mouth, girl.” Rumlow was a man who was convinced  _first_ that all women found him attractive, and  _second_ that any woman who didn’t fall for his charms was inherently a waste of space. With nothing more than a caustic comment, Wanda had dropped in Rumlow’s eyes from easy, gorgeous  _prey_ to not worth his time at all, and Brock’s lip curled in disgust as he added, “Won’t ever be suitable wife material with an attitude like that.”  
  
“Oh I’m not raising Wanda to be wife material.” Natalia entered the room calmly, gracefully, with all the presence and aplomb of a noble born lady, hiding her anxiety behind a neutral expression. “I’m raising her to kill any man who thinks her  _worth_ begins and ends with whatever his faulty estimation has valued her at.”

“Natalia.” Rumlow dropped into a mock bow. “Or are you the Lady Natalia Carbonell  _Stark_ these days? Has your fancy husband gone and made a decent woman of you or are you still sleeping with the hired help?

Talia’s knuckles were white with tension as she clasped Wanda’s hand, her voice razor sharp as she replied, “You will address me as Lady Romanova, or you will not address me at all, Rumlow. You were never invited into my home, or even through the front gates so what are you doing here?”  
  
“Barnes tasked me with keeping an eye on you.” The soldier retorted. “I was given a key to the gate and–”  
  
“No you weren’t.” Natalia interrupted. “The only key to those front gates stays around my neck at all times, which means you came in around the back and then walked to the front door. Tell me, Rumlow.  _Why_ are you sneaking around my property?”  
  
“Oh for fucks sake.” Rumlow cut a look towards Pietro. “Put the knife down before you get hurt, boy. Where is Barnes? Or for that matter, where is  _Samuel_? He’s the one who saw me at the gate and didn’t bother telling me to go away. I didn’t come all this way to talk to the women and the children, so why don’t you go fetch–”  
  
“You came all this way for no reason at all.” Tony spoke from the step up to the parlor, cutting into Rumlow’s sneered order leaning against the door frame with an entirely bored expression on his face. “And I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to my family.”  
  
“ _Your_ family.” Brock repeated, eyes sweeping over Tony’s unruly hair, the half undone shirt and heavy lidded expression. “Were you–” he glanced over at Natalia. “ _Really,_ now _._  I thought this was a sham marriage. You’re actually fucking this posh prince?”  
  
“Don’t use language like that in front of my sister.” Pietro snarled and Wanda reached to squeeze his hand. “She’s a lady and you need to treat her like one.”  
  
Brock barked a laugh at Pietro’s posturing. “Get all locked up and away from the real world and you all start putting on airs! I’ve got news for you boy, no one outside these walls thinks you’re anything other than some pitiful orphan dragged into the Widow’s–”  
  
“That’s enough.” Tony warned, straightening up and glaring at Rumlow. “Step away  _now_.”  
  
“I don’t take orders from you, Italian.” Rumlow growled. “You know, I’m half surprised Barnes hasn’t buried you in the orchard yet. Why don’t you tell me  _exactly_ what a pretty Prince like you does to earn your keep around here?”   
  
Tony’s dark eyes sparked in anger, and when he reached behind his back as if for a weapon, Rumlow reached for one of his own–  
  
“That’s enough.” A match, lighting loud in Rumlow’s ear and he jerked away with a startled yelp, whirling around to find James hovering at his back, a cigarette glowing cherry red and held carelessly between his lips. “What are you doing here, Rumlow?”  
  
“I came to give you a report.” It took a visible effort on Brock’s part to gather himself again, smoothing his shirt and affecting a careless pose with just enough respect to keep from angering the  _Komandir_. “Figured you’d want to know what’s going on at the front lines.”  
  
“But I didn’t ask for a report.” James flicked a glance over Rumlow’s shoulder when Ronin and Samuel came in, inclining his head in a silent acknowledgment. “And I didn’t ask you to come to the manor, so what are you doing  _here_?”  
  
“Things have been happening you need to know about, and apparently it’s not safe to send word through the usual channels.” Brock turned around and gave Ronin and Samuel a measuring look. “So I thought a personal visit was best.”  
  
He didn’t know that once he was on the property, Samuel and James had climbed out the parlor window and gone to get Ronin from the barn, doing a quick sweep of the manor land to be sure Rumlow had come alone. He  _also_ didn’t know James had given Tony a pistol and told him to stall Rumlow in the front until he and the others had completed their search, and to put a bullet in the man if necessary.

James was taking no chances with his family’s safety, not even with his second in command.   
  
And now Rumlow was surrounded on four sides, Natalia and the twins on one, Tony now holding a pistol on the other, Ronin and Samuel at his back and an increasingly pissed off looking James at his front.  
  
“Walk with me, I don’t want to talk here.” James took a deep drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke just above Brock’s head, using the chance to glance over at Tony.  
  
When he’d asked the beautiful brunette to stall Rumlow, he hadn’t expected Tony’s go-to distraction to be  _this_ one– with hair unruly and rumpled, shirt unbuttoned to his navel and gaze lazy as if he had only just dragged himself out of bed.  
  
James  _loved_ when Tony looked like this, loved when Tony’s hair was a disaster from running his fingers through it, when those dark eyes were melting hot and his lips were bruised from kisses. James  _loved_ when Tony looked like this, and  _need_ punched through his gut, coiling up his spine and making his heart pound.  
  
He still wanted to wrestle Tony into bed and lose himself in that perfect body, still wanted to ease his mind with the sound of Tony’s laughter and the always tender sweep of Tony’s fingers and he wanted to put  _words_ to whatever the feeling was that threatened to choke him anytime Tony looked up and smiled. 

But he couldn’t. Not right now.   
  
“Walk with me.” James repeated, forcing his mind away from Tony so he could focus on the situation at hand, snapping his fingers when Rumlow didn’t move as fast as he wanted. “Get your ass outside.”  
  
The moment they were out of the kitchen, Tony set his pistol on the table and went running first to Natalia, then switched directions to catch Wanda as she collapsed, knowing Samuel would take care of Natalia and checking to be sure Ronin had grabbed Pietro in a hug.  
  
“You did good.” Ronin mumbled into Pietro’s ear. “Protecting your sister and Talia like that. Did good, kiddo.“  
  
“Why does he scare me so much?” Wanda sounded near tears and Tony held her tight. “I hate him! Why do I hate him so much?”  
  
“Why does James  _trust_ him so much?” Pietro complained, working hard to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I don’t like that he shows up whenever he wants and walks in the house.”  
  
“James has known Brock since before he left Russia.” Natalia said, hiding her face in Samuel’s shoulder. “The man is a creep, but he is a good soldier. He was assigned to keep an eye on me when Da married me off and even though I hate him too, he’s never let any real harm come to me. James is right to trust him.”  
  
“He’s trash.” Tony said calmly, smoothing Wanda’s hair away from her face and wiping her tears. “But most lifetime soldiers are. It takes a specific sort of man to excel at war and that sort isn’t usually the kind you want around at home.  You’re lucky to have three men in your life that are not only good soldiers but also managed to retain their humanity long enough to be good men.”  
  
“Four men.” Wanda corrected.  
  
“I’m not a soldier, sweetheart.” Tony said with a smile and Wanda murmured, “But you’re a good man, Antonio. And our family is grateful you’ve come along.”  
  


*****************  
  
“So.”  
  
James didn’t say a word until he and Rumlow had cleared the barns, and even then his gait never slowed or wavered, so Brock took it upon himself to start the conversation.  
  
“So.” he said again when James didn’t look at him. “I came this way to check on Natalia and her new husband cos I heard there were officials coming knocking after them. Didn’t expect to still find you here, though.”    
  
“How did you know that?” James burned through one cigarette and lit another, inexplicably jumpy around the soldier and not enjoying it at all.

He’d never been uneasy around Rumlow before, but then again, he’d never paid any attention to just how much Rumlow  _stared_ at Natalia and Wanda in turn, or how comfortable Rumlow was walking into the manor as if he owned it, and the reminder of how absent, how  _detached_ , James had been for the last several years made him angry.

“How did you know officials came looking this way for Natalia?“ he repeated. "Tell me.”  
  
“Word spreads.” Rumlow said non committedly and James growled, “Word don’t spread  _that_ fast, Rumlow. Try again.”  
  
Rumlow pursed his lips, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he thought his answer through. “After what happened in Kiev, I’ve been keeping closer tabs on your sister. She was acting skittish and suspicious before she left for Italy and that’s what tipped off the soldiers in the city, that’s why they were waiting for her.”  
  
“When she left to get Tony.” James clarified. “You think the way Natalia was acting before she went to find Tony tipped the soldiers off?”  
  
“Obviously.” Rumlow frowned, slanting a sideways look at James. “You call him  _Tony_?”  
  
“Everyone calls him Tony.” James said curtly. “Don’t change the subject. You can’t expect me to believe Talia was so careless with her actions that she gave herself and her plans away. She’s too good at what she does for that sort of thing.”  
  
“Your father–”  
  
“ _Her_ father.”  
  
“Her father.” Brock corrected. “ _Her_ father dying affected Talia more than you realize. She was erratic and disorganized and–”  
  
“My sister has never been erratic or disorganized in her life.”  
  
“With all due respect  _Komandir_.” Brock barely tempered the irritation in his voice. “How would you know? I’ve been around Natalia more than you have in the last ten years, then you dropped your two Americans here to watch her and all they do is fill the twins heads with nonsense and take your sister to bed and–”  
  
A heavy hand smacked into Rumlow’s chest, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.  
  
“Choose your next words carefully.” James warned him. “You are my second in command but  _no one_  is going to speak ill of my sister or my family. Not Wanda and Pietro, not Samuel and Ronin.”  
  
“Well what about the posh prince running around the manor half dressed?” Rumlow challenged, brushing James’s hand away. “What have you done about  _him_? It’s bad enough Natalia snuck off to Italy to get a foreign husband, but then she brings him to the manor and moves him right in? Five years ago not even Ronin and Samuel knew where this house was. Now there are orphans and Americans and a perfect stranger coming and going as they please. How is that safe? You are  _slipping_ , White Wolf. Getting lazy with your security.”  
  
“Lazy.” James repeated, a ripple of unease skittering down his spine. “ _Slipping_? Why, because I came home to the manor for a few months? Because I’ve traded war for a moment of peace? I don’t have to do anything about Tony. I made sure he understood what is important to our family and to this life and that was all that needed to be said.”  
  
Rumlow snorted and James narrowed his eyes. “I think I am entitled to a bit of rest after all I’ve done for the revolution, Rumlow. Do you disagree?”  
  
“All you’ve done.” Rumlow shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from the biting wind. “All you’ve done. Do you have any idea what’s been happening since you’ve been here playing family?”  
  
“ _Playing family_?”  
  
“No no.” Now it was Rumlow to stop James, grabbing at his arm and holding him still. “No, I’m  _serious_ , Barnes. While you’ve been here safe and warm at home, our men are  _dying_ , do you understand? We went to Timaransk, James.” 

Brock shook his head. “We lost fourteen men at Timaransk. Almost forty five at Sirgut a few weeks later.”

  
“Forty five.” James repeated, shock washing his features. “ _Jesus_.”  
  
“You and your two best soldiers are here falling in love.” Rumlow spat. “And the men are dying for a revolution that  _you_ promised to end, one  _you_ swore to finish. Where are you? Why haven’t you finished it?”  
  
“No. No no no.” James crushed the cigarette in his palm and tossed it away. “No, our men were never supposed to be at Timaransk. And no where near Sirgut. Those were campaigns I couldn’t authorize because of the risk, why did you let it happen?”  
  
“Why did  _I_  let it happen?” Rumlow echoed in disbelief, yanking up his sleeve to show James the still raised scar left from a stray bullet, one that had plowed through his arm and missed crushing the bone only by sheer luck. “You’ve been gone for  _months_ , James! Almost ten weeks since any of us heard from you! Longer since you’ve made an appearance! Do you expect the men to sit and twiddle their thumbs? They are soldiers,  _warriors_ fighting for their homeland and their freedom, they won’t sit idly by and wait for winter to ease or for you to grow tired of domestic bliss and decide to return to the fight!”  
  
“Those battle never should have happened.” James maintained. “They never should have–”  
  
“But they  _did_ , and now we have widows and children to support.” Rumlow snapped. “Stop hiding away with your sister and her new husband and friends and do your job! You are a soldier, not a farmer! Quit playing pretend!”  
  
“Quit playing pretend.” James nodded jerkily. “Forty five men in one night? Are you  _sure_?”  
  
“Are you sure you trust him?” Rumlow asked instead. “The Italian, you’re  _sure_ you trust him?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I trust Tony?” James hunched his shoulders against the growing wind, staring at the ground as his mind stuttered over images of losing over fifty men in so short a time, the logistics of how he was going to be sure their families could survive the winter, how he could get money together and food for the widows and children. “Why wouldn’t I trust him?”  
  
“It seems convenient that the moment Natalia brings him into your life, things are going wrong.” Brock pointed out. “If it wasn’t your sister giving away her intentions when she went to Italy, how did the soldiers know they would be landing in Kiev? She and Stark went into almost every city we stopped in, he had every opportunity to send a message to anyone he wanted.”  
  
“Why would Tony have betrayed Natalia?” James said doubtfully. “He didn’t even know her before they met at the masquerade.”  
  
“No?” Brock tossed back. “So Talia simply  _happened_ upon a man at a random masquerade ball who was all too eager to give up his entire life and come to Russia? One who was  _insistent_ I not accompany them around Kiev, which was when they were apprehended? You take Natalia and the others into town for supplies and a few weeks later, officials come around? Seems convenient, don’t you think?”  
  
“The timing is only a coincidence.” James decided. “Tony is not at fault for that.”  
  
“Soldiers like you and I cannot afford to believe in coincidences.” Rumlow argued back. “The same time this man comes into your life and now our soldiers are being ambushed,  _slaughtered_ , and Natalia has warrants for her arrest. It seems to me as if you have a leak, Barnes.”  
  
“And how do I know it’s not you?” James grabbed Rumlow’s collar and yanked him up close. “Hm? All of these things could easily be attributed to my second in command betraying me.”  
  
“James.” Rumlow closed his hand over James’s wrist, staring into the coldly furious gaze. “You’ve known me since grade school, I’ve fought at your side for twenty years, whether it was the bullies in the school yard or the Tsar’s men. Antonio has been in your lives less than six months. Why would you trust him over me?”  
  
James pushed away from Rumlow without answering, and the two soldiers walked back to the house in silence.  
  
Once inside the foyer, Brock stopped James again to ask, “You’re just fuckin’ him, right?” James’s eyes sparked  _dangerous_ and Brock hurried to clarify, “No way you two are lookin’ at each other like that and not fuckin’ each other. But it isn’t  _love_ , right?”  
  
“Why does that matter?” James bit out.  
  
“What if he’s your spy, James?” Brock kept his voice low. “And you can’t see it cos you’re developing feelings for him?” 

James started to protest, but Rumlow hushed him, adding, “Even if he’s  _not_ your spy, you can’t tell me you aren’t distracted by him. Everyone knows the Winter Soldier came home from the States with a broken heart and  _that’s_ why you’re half outta your mind violent when the mood takes you. You fall in love with this brat and what happens when things end? You gonna give up on this fight and take your anger somewhere else? Abandon us cos you got your heart broke again?”  
  
James ground his teeth together, irritated that his grief over Steve had been so obvious, angry with Rumlow for even bringing Tony into the conversation. “It’s not love.”  
  
“You’re sure.” Rumlow pressed. “Cos if it is–”  
  
“What it  _is_ , is a distraction.” James interrupted. “A willing body and someone to warm my bed. I’m here at the manor because I needed to be sure my sister didn’t jeopardize my fight with a foolish decision, not for any other reason. Tony isn’t any danger to us or the revolution, just a pretty prince running from his own issues in Italy. He doesn’t matter–” 

A motion at the door caught James’s attention and he looked up to see Tony standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. “–He doesn’t matter to me for any reason beyond that.”  
  
Brock only looked half convinced, but he didn’t press the subject, instead saying– “I’ll be in town overnight and leaving in the morning. It wouldn’t be the worst idea for you to come along. Leave Samuel and Ronin here if you want, but you need to be back with us,  _Komandir_. The men need to see you fighting.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.” James grunted, and reached to shake Rumlow’s hand. “Don’t you ever come to this house unannounced again, do you understand?”  
  
“If you were where you were supposed to be, I wouldn’t have to come find you.” Rumlow retorted, gaze flinty and handshake squeezing to the point of pain. “Do  _you_ understand?”  
  
“Perhaps I have been away too long.” James narrowed his eyes and squeezed back until Rumlow grimaced with pain. “If you think it’s acceptable to talk to your  _Komandir_ like that.”  
  
“Apologies, apologies.” Brock gasped out and James let him go, shoving him towards the door. “Think about it though, I’ll be in town for another day.”  
  
James didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away until Rumlow had gotten down the stairs and onto his horse, spurring the poor beast down the lane at a run. Then he shut and barred the door, swept the curtains over the window and motioned for Tony to follow him into the kitchen.  
  
“Thing’s aren’t well on the battlefield.” Tony more stated than asked, pouring himself a healthy measure of vodka and pouring another for James. “You have to leave, don’t you?”  
  
“Nothing is ever well when we’re discussing war.” Came James’s vague answer, and then– “Have you changed your mind?”  
  
“About what?” Tony tossed back his drink and poured another.  
  
“About coming to my room tonight.”  
  
“Oh.” Tony shivered over the burn of alcohol down his throat. “Absolutely not.”  
  
“Tony–”  
  
“Absolutely  _not_.” Tony said louder, and it was only then James saw the hurt burning in Tony’s dark eyes and the angry flush in his cheeks. “I stand by what I said before. I deserve better than to be used as someone’s stress relief and if I don’t matter anything to you besides being a willing body and someone to warm your bed–”  
  
James blanched, coughing around a hard swallow. “I didn’t know you heard all of that.”  
  
“Well I did.” Tony poured a third helping of the drink but didn’t even pick up his glass this time. “I heard Rumlow accuse me of being a spy, I heard you say that I was nothing more than a pretty prince running away, and I–I–” 

Tony closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, and when he spoke again, his voice was flat and even. “Even if I’d  _wanted_ to come to your bed tonight, being reduced to those sort of terms has cured me of the desire.”  
  
“Well, I’m sorry if you assumed you meant more to me.” James didn’t mean for the words to be so  _sharp_ , and the moment they left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. “ _Shit_. What I mean is–”  
  
“I know what you mean.” Tony cut in. “I’m well aware of what you mean. And I never assumed I was more, I never assumed I meant  _anything_ to you. I did assume you were decent enough to speak about as if I were actually a  _person_.”  
  
“The only reason I said those things was to shut Rumlow up!” James raised his voice when Tony did. “He thinks you are a spy, thinks you are distracting me and I had to make sure he knew you weren’t important!”  
  
“I’m not important.” Tony echoed, nodding his head. “Yes well, I think you accomplished your point brilliantly. Rumlow and I and everyone else in the house is well aware that I am not  _important_.“  
  
“You’re being deliberately stubborn.” James growled in frustration. “You know damn well if Rumlow thought for even an  _instant_ that you meant anything to me, he’d use that knowledge to undermine me. I’m not stupid, Tony. He’s my second in command but Brock has never been happy playing runner up, he’d take my army away from me in a  _second_ if he had the chance.”  
  
“I don’t care about that!” Tony was shouting now, the argument getting rapidly out of hand as remembered  _hurt_ bubbled up from his heart, James’s words all too similar to the ones Tiberius had used when he tried explaining away their relationship to his wife. “I don’t care that your second in command is vindictive and power hungry! I care that you talked about me like I wasn’t  _anything_ , like I wasn’t  _anyone_! I am tired of being reduced to a play thing and forgotten in the grand scheme of some bigger picture!”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous!” James flung back, angry that Tony was challenging him,  _angrier_ that he was allowing himself to react, Brock’s words about what had happened the last time he got his heart broke echoing around in his head. “This is  _war_ , Tony. This is men’s lives at stake! This isn’t some petty lovers quarrel, and I am not a married man who has to justify you to my wife.”

Tony jerked as if he’d been slapped, but James cut him off before he could say anything. “This is real life, Tony. I lost fifty men in a week because I was wasting my time here with you–”  
  
“ _Wasting your time_?”  
  
“Yes! Wasting my time! I am a  _soldier_ , Tony and anything that happens at this house or in my bedroom doesn’t register as important, it doesn’t matter,  _you_ don’t matter when it comes to this!”  
  
Tony went very  _very_ pale, his hands shaking as he crossed his arms over his midsection, and when he spoke again, his voice was very very soft. “Well, I’m glad I don’t matter, glad I’m not anything other than a waste of time.”  
  
“ _Shit_.” James dug both hands into his hair and pulled at the strands until it hurt. “Tony. I didn’t mean that.  _You_ aren’t a waste of time. I meant– I meant that being here and playing house and pretending there isn’t a war going on.  _That’s_ a waste of time. That’s what I meant. You matter to me, you do. I just–”  
  
“I don’t love you.” Tony was whispering now and James closed his eyes at the  _despair_ choking the words. “I don’t love you and I know you don’t love me. And that’s fine. But I will not stand here and let you talk about as me as if I’m not even a person, won’t stand and let you shout that I don’t matter, that I’m a waste of time. I’ve had  _enough_ of being reduced to nothing more than a willing body and a pretty mouth, and I won’t let you do it to me too.”  
  
“ _Tony_.”  
  
“The next time you want something soft to sleep next to, find a pillow.”  
  
Tony turned on his heel and strode away.  
  
James cursed out loud and cracked the table with his fist.  
  
****************  
  


“You’re leaving.” Natalia’s mouth dropped in astonishment when she came to find James for dinner and found him packing a bag, clothes yanked from his dresser and scattered around his bed. “Are you really leaving? James,where are you going?”  
  
“I don’t want to be here.” James answered, opening the panel beside his bed and retrieving a pouch of ammunition and several stacks of bills. “Don’t know why you’re surprised Natalia, I never stay for the winter.”  
  
“But winter is  _already_ here.” she protested. “The first snow came yesterday and you know it falls in the pass sooner! There is a storm on the horizon and it isn’t safe to even be riding much less trying to leave the valley altogether!”

“James!” Natalia shoved the suitcase away when her brother didn’t stop packing. “Where are you going?”  
  
“To camp.” James said shortly. “I’ve been away from the men for too long, been neglecting my duties. Men are dying and that’s my fault.  _My fault_. I need to get my ranks in order, so I’m leaving with Rumlow in the morning. I can’t waste time any more time playing domestic with my sister and her lovers and the orphans you picked up along the way.  
  
Natalia’s cheeks went scarlet with fury and she jabbed a finger in James’s chest. “I don’t know what in the hell is going on with you, but you will  _not_ talk that way about my family–”  
  
“Exactly, Talia.” James brushed her out of the way. “ _Your_ family.  _Yours_.”  
  
“–simply because you are miserable and maudlin this time of year and–”  
  
“–you know nothing about why I feel the way I feel.”  
  
“I know Pietro asked you whether or not you loved Antonio and you told him you didn’t have to love someone to fuck them!” she flung back. “And after that shockingly crude statement to a bloody  _child_ –”  
  
“He is practically grown, he was due to find out the reality on his own eventually.”  
  
“–He is a child and you announce it so callously!” Natalia shouted. “To a  _boy_! All because he asked an innocent question!”  
  
“He needs to learn not to meddle.” James snorted and Natalia swept the suitcase right off the bed and onto the floor, scattering the clothes everywhere.  
  
“And  _you_ need to stop running away from the people who love you because you cannot cope with a broken heart. It’s been ten years, James. Long enough to not feel guilty for wanting Antonio. Ten years!  _Move on_!”   
  
James froze halfway to picking up his suitcase, jaw clenching. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Natalia.”  
  
“Of course, because a woman like me would never understand a broken heart?”  
  
“Because you don’t know me well enough anymore to have an opinion.”  
  
“You’re running away from Antonio.” Natalia said flatly. “Packing your things and running away because you are afraid of what he makes you feel. Did you honestly think you’d never love again? That ten years and longer would pass without you ever  _wanting_ again? James, you do not have to feel guilty, this is not a betrayal of a memory–”  
  
“I don’t feel guilty.” James lied and Natalia pursed her lips. “I’m leaving to do my duty as a soldier, and nothing else. I restarted this revolution when I came back from the States and I cannot stay away simply because I’ve found someone pretty to pass the nights with.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“Leave it alone, it’s none of your business.”  
  
“James–!”  
  
“Leave it alone!” he shouted and Natalia jumped, folding her arms tight to her body when he shoved past her to find his heavy coat.  
  
“I knew you two would do this.” she whispered after several minutes of just watching. “To each other, to yourselves. Antonio is so afraid of being fooled by a false love again he lies to himself about his feelings. You have used war and bloodshed to try and forget you  _want_ to love again, and you’d rather leave than try and face the truth. I knew you’d hurt each other.”  
  
“Is this about the winter you think hides in my soul, sister?” James mocked, zipping his bag shut firmly. “Or the shadows you always say are lurking in Tony’s heart? I’m pleased you found love after everything, sister. More pleased you found it with men I would trust with my very life. But your happiness does not mean everyone else must automatically be in love too.”   
  
“No one fights like you and Antonio just did unless you care!” she cried. “Stop using the war as an excuse and just stay home!”  
  
“It’s not an excuse.” James bit out. “The war is real life, Natalia. You are more than welcome to hide away here, and I promised I wouldn’t take Ronin and Samuel from you so I won’t. But I can’t stay here simply because you want me to be in love with the unwitting fool you dragged into this mess. There is nothing but sex–”  _and anger, and broken hearts and a million things we won’t say to each other_. “–between Tony and I, and all your wishing and advice won’t change that.”  
  
“No of course not.” she scoffed. “No, obviously you two are just  _fucking_ , aren’t you? Just rutting like bloody animals and then going your separate ways. That’s why he’s in his room trying to drown himself in a bottle and you are  _literally_ running away. No feelings at all?” she cursed a black streak. “Bull shit, brother.”  
  
“Being wed to a proper gentleman hasn’t done anything for your mouth, has it?” James growled and Natalia hissed back, “ _Or my tempe_ r!”  
  
“Obviously.” James shrugged into his warm coat and relaced his boots. “I’ll send word to Samuel and Ronin so you all know I’m alright.”  
  
“Don’t do this.” the anger washed out of Natalia’s body, her voice almost begging, “James. Brother.  _Please_. This is the first time in years I’ve had my entire family here at home and the first time in years I’ve seen you smiling. Don’t go. Don’t ruin this. Don’t run away again.”  
  
“Bye, sister.” James bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you in the spring.”


	15. Chapter 15

It took James only fifteen minutes to ready Zima for the journey, laying a warmer blanket down before cinching the saddle, working the bit gently into the stallions mouth and crooning softly to the big animal wen Zima picked up on his anxiety and pranced a little in the stall.  
  
“Easy, lovely.” James whispered, patting at the soft nose. “Easy, we’ll ride fast tonight, let you out to run for a while, you’ll like that  _moya krasota_ , won’t you?”  
  
“You really are leaving.”  
  
Tony’s voice at the door made James tense, but he kept his voice neutral to reply, “I have a job to do, Tony. A war to win and I’ve been away too long. Of course I am really leaving.”   
  
Tony didn’t answer, and James secured the bridle under Zima’s head and went to get his pack. “I assumed you would be locked away in your room to avoid Natalia’s meddling, or at the very least drinking in the kitchen with the others. I should be flattered my leaving have such an effect on the family. The last time I left, Natalia threw a vase at me and told me not to come back so I must be moving up in her estimation.”  
  
“She cracked a tea kettle against the wall when she came downstairs.” Tony said flatly and James snorted. “So  _no_ , I’d say her estimation of you hasn’t risen at all.”  
  
“And it shouldn’t.” James slung his pack over Zima’s back. “Maybe one day she’ll stop being angry when I disappoint her.”  
  
“Maybe.” Tony allowed. “But we always hold the people we love in high estimation. That’s what allows our hearts to break over and over every time a loved one lets us down.”  
  
“I think any leftover love Natalia had for me disappeared the last time I left.”   
  
“If you think Talia doesn’t love you anymore, you’re being purposefully stubborn and purposefully  _foolish_.” The words came sharper than Tony had intended but he made no attempt to soften them. “A man like you doesn’t survive in war for this long without knowing how to read people, and Natalia might have been a spy before but now she’s just a woman trying to keep the people she loves close and safe. If you can’t see that, you’re being stupid. Purposefully  _stupid_.”   
  
“Are we calling each other names now, Tony?”  
  
“Is me calling you  _stupid_ worse than you calling me nothing but a warm body?”  
  
“…no.” James ground his teeth together and hissed out a breath. “And I  _apologized_ for that.”

“You said the words ‘ _I didn’t mean that_ ’’.” Tony countered, folding his arms and lifting his chin. “Which is nothing close to an apology.”  
  
“That’s why you’re here then?” James scoffed, ignoring the edge of  _hurt_ Tony couldn’t quite keep from his eyes, and the  _regret_ circling low in his own stomach. “For an actual apology? This is not Italy,  _Prince_ , and I am not some villager so stunned by your accent and fancy clothes that I am willing to bow and scrape to please you.”  
  
James led Zima from the stall and out into the main area of the stables, stopping to fill a bag with grain so the horse would have extra food for the journey. “I didn’t mean for you to overhear what I said to Rumlow, neither did I mean the words how they sounded but Tony you have to understand–”  
  
Tony was suddenly in his space, standing on his toes to press his lips to James’s mouth and James dropped Zima’s reins immediately, arms going like steel around Tony’s waist and holding him tight.  
  
It was Tony who controlled the kiss, burying his hands in James’s shoulder length hair and directing their heads so he could sweep his tongue along the seam of James’s lips and thrust his tongue through, but it was James who moaned and gathered Tony up into his body for a long time like he didn’t want to let go, whatever cross words they’d been exchanging forgotten in the familiar thrill of being pressed together again after days apart.

Tony finally broke away though, leaving a sharp bite at James’s lip as he withdrew and giving a shaky moan of his own when James chased the kiss down along Tony’s jawline and onto the curve of his neck.  
  
“What are you doing?” He whispered into Tony’s skin. “I thought you were angry with me.”  
  
“I’m furious.” Tony said hoarsely, his fingers tight at James’s side. “I’m furious at you and I’m so tired of being talked about like I don’t matter in the least and–”  
  
“I didn’t mean it.” James cut in, his mouth still hovering over Tony’s ear. “I didn’t mean what I said and I didn’t mean it how it sounded. I swear.”  
  
“Yeah, but I’ve heard that before too.” Tony shook his head when James tried to talk again. “I don’t love you, James. And I don’t need you to love me, but I  _do_ need you to–” He hesitated, wetting his lips as he tried to find words.

Tony had never asked Tiberius for anything, had never looked the volatile blond in the eyes and explained what  _he_ needed or wanted from the relationship beyond the occasional plea for Ty to stay with him.

And Tony and James weren’t in a relationship, not even close but he still  _needed_ –  
  
James blew out a deep breath and cupped Tony’s jaw, tilting his head up until he could see the  _uncertainty_ in Tony’s expression, nervousness warring with determination and that familiar spark of  _challenge_ that told James it was taking all of Tony’s courage just to be right there instead of running away like he would have done months ago.

And he saw a hint of  _lying_ , barely discernible and almost hidden, Tony’s claim of ‘ _I don’t love you_ ’ ringing hollow to both their ears.  
  
But James didn’t press the issue, only swept his thumb over Tony’s bottom lip and dotted it with a kiss, smiling a little when Tony’s eyes fell shut. “I am sorry for what I said, sweet thing, for what you heard and for how we fought, but I have to go. You understand that I  _have_ to go.”  
  
“I’m not asking you to stay.” Tony returned, fingers trembling where they clutched at James’s side. “I know you have to go. But I still need to know if–”  
  
“I’ll miss you.” James murmured and Tony sagged into his arms, relief and surprise making his eyes widen and there were a hundred other things James should have said right then, but instead he repeated, “I’ll miss you. I will.” and Tony murmured back, “I’ll miss you too.”  
  
“I’ll send word to Samuel and Ronin so they can share any news with the family.” James stepped away and Tony straightened back up and cleared his throat. “And if you’d like–” he stopped and fiddled with Zima’s reins as he prepared to ask something he’d only ever asked Stevie, something he’d never considered asking anyone else. “–If you’d let me, I’d like to send you word as well.”  
  
“You want to write to me?” Tony asked in confusion, even as something like  _hope_ bloomed in his chest, no matter how he tried to squash it. “Really?”  
  
James chewed at his lip for a few seconds. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”  
  
It was a simple statement, but one that carried the weight of much more than either of them were saying aloud– James being the first to say he wanted to stay in contact, giving Tony the choice to allow it or not. James was opening himself up to rejection and giving Tony the chance to set the pace for this next part to their pseudo relationship. It had been  _years_ since James had given up even a little control to anyone, and Tony had never had an ounce of control in his and Ty’s arrangement, and the enormity of the statement wasn’t lost on either man.   
  
It was a simple statement but Tony felt it like a blow to his chest, stealing his breath and making him ache.  
  
“ _James_.”  
  
“I won’t if you don’t want me to.” James repeated, his pale eyes shuttered and shoulders stiff as if he were preparing himself to be turned down again. Tony had said no to coming to bed, had repeated it emphatically after Rumlow, and now had a chance to turn James down for a final time before he left. “But it’s up to you.”  
  
“…yes.” Tony looked half terrified in the low light of the stables but he was nodding hard enough to make a curl flop loose over his forehead. “ _Yes_. Write to me.”  
  
“Alright then.” Yet another moment where either James or Tony should have said something–  _anything_ – but instead both were quiet as James walked Zima out into the evening air. “You’ll tell Talia I said good-bye?”  
  
“I’ll dodge whatever she throws at me.” Tony returned and James laughed quietly, then bent low to kiss Tony one more time.  
  
“ _Do svidaniya dorogaya_.” the soldier whispered. “Good-bye, darling.”  
  
***************  
  
Two letters arrived at the manor the very next afternoon. 

The first one was addressed to Ronin and Samuel, written entirely in code and most likely the coordinates for the next several places James would be, and instructions on how to reach him if needed.   
  
The second was addressed to Tony, and even though the entire family swiveled to  _stare_ when the messenger asked for him, Tony didn’t say a word. He took the letter and took it right upstairs, reappearing immediately to begin helping with dinner like he did every night.  
  
“…Antonio?” Natalia hinted when it came time for dessert and Tony hadn’t mentioned the letter. “Everything alright?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t everything be alright?” Tony answered calmly, helping himself to a slice of Wanda’s chocolate pie.  
  
“Um.” Pietro darted a glance between the other adults at the table. “Cos you had an argument with James yesterday, then came in from the stables like you’ve been crying? And now there’s a letter that you aren’t reading. Sure seems like things aren’t alright.”   
  
“Pietro!” Wanda scolded, horrified by her brother’s lack of tact. “Hush now!”  
  
“Pietro, shut your mouth.” Samuel agreed and Ronin just leaned over and popped the boy across the head. “Leave it alone. What happens between James and Tony isn’t our business.”  
  
Natalia narrowed her green eyes in Tony’s direction but was met with nothing more than that unsettling blank stare Tony had perfected, and a half twist of a smile that wasn’t really a smile at all.  
  
“Are you alright?” she asked again, and this time she was genuinely concerned. “Antonio?”  
  
“Everything’s fine.” Tony went back to his pie. “Leave it alone, Natalia.”  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
Winter blew through the valley and  _wailed_ against the wall of the manor with a sort of howl that made the entire family want to wrap up in quilts and huddle in bed, so day after day, that’s exactly what they did.  
  
“Antonio, I have soup and you didn’t come downstairs when we called for you.” Wanda shuffled into the library in her warmest dress, a blanket wrapped round her shoulders and passed over a bowl to Tony. “What are you doing in here anyway? This is the coldest room in the house! Come to the kitchen, we are all reading by the fire.”  
  
“Thank you.” Tony uncurled from his pile of blankets and accepted the soup with a grateful smile. “But I’m fine here.”  
  
“You haven’t read the letter yet?” Wanda couldn’t help a peek at the envelope laying on top of the stack of books, Tony’s name printed across it in James’s signature scrawl. “You’re still angry at him, aren’t you?”  
  
“I’m not angry.” Tony whisked the envelope away into the pocket of his robe. “And you are being  _nosy_ , Wanda.”  
  
“A trait I picked up from Natalia, no doubt.” the pretty girl nodded as if she didn’t quite care. “And you are changing the subject. Why haven’t you read the letter? James must have written it the same night he left if it was delivered the next day and you’ve had it unopened for two weeks? Antonio–”  
  
“Wanda.” Tony put the soup to the side and clasped Wanda’s hand. “I love you dearly, nosiness included, but I will tell you the same thing I told Talia when she came to bother me yesterday.” 

He waited until Wanda nodded again. “What is happening or  _isn’t_ happening between James and myself isn’t any of your business, do you understand? I’m aware I married into a family of spies and I know Talia cannot help but ask questions, but you need to _leave it be_.”  
  
“She said you’d say that.” Wanda frowned and pulled her hand away. “And I don’t mean to be nosy Antonio, but if I have to spend another day in this house with nothing to talk about and nowhere to go, I think I might go mad.”  
  
“How often do you leave the manor?” Tony changed the subject, thinking back over the last six or so months and trying to remember if Wanda had left the grounds other than the supply trip the entire family took to town.  
  
“Oh, I don’t.” Wanda shook her head quickly, hugging her blanket closer to her shoulders. “I never leave the manor and Talia doesn’t either unless it’s for her work and she doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore. Pietro goes with Samuel and Ronin sometimes, but I never leave. Never.”  
  
“Why not?” Tony frowned. “Surely it’s not that dangerous, not even with Talia’s warrants. Not for you, at least?”  
  
“There’s nowhere I want to go.” Wanda sat on the couch when Tony made room. “Sokovia is– it is a wasteland. I  _hate_ it here. The manor is home, like an oasis, but outside the manor–” Wanda shook her head again. “Why would I go out more than I have to? A trip to town for supplies is necessary and I enjoy being out with our family, but I only need that once in a long while. Walking the manor grounds is enough to satisfy my restlessness.”  
  
“A wasteland–” Tony started to ask and Wanda clarified, “My parents died out there, Antonio. My village caught fire and burned away, my neighbors and my friends and the little old woman who sold apples on Sundays? All dead.”

She closed her eyes briefly, expression twisted with remembered pain. “Pietro and I hid together for days before Ronin found us. He brought us to the manor and we’ve found home and family here with Samuel and Talia, but don’t think for a second we’ve forgotten or that we’ve moved on, because we  _haven’t_. Pietro hides it better than I do, but he wants to run off and play war because he needs revenge and I– I just don’t go outside. We– we cope in our own ways.”   
  
Tony swallowed but didn’t answer and Wanda pleated the quilt between her fingers. “I would leave Sokovia tomorrow if I could. I’d move somewhere by the water, somewhere beautiful where fruit doesn’t struggle to grow and the days are warm more than they are cold.” 

Wanda’s smile was barely a smile at all. “But where would I go, and how could I go alone? I cannot leave Pietro, and I don’t want to leave Natalia and Ronin and Samuel. So I sit here and hate it, every day. Try and find new things to talk about, or new crafts to try so I don’t make myself insane. What else can I do?”  
  
“And you, Antonio.” The redhead patted at his leg and tried for a more teasing expression. “You would deny me new gossip when I am so bored? How cruel of you.”  
  
“…part of my inheritance is a home by the sea in Chioggia.” Tony said after a moment, holding onto Wanda’s hand tight, his heart  _breaking_ over the resignation in the girls voice. Wanda was too young to have lost all she had lost, too young to have seen everything she’d seen and somehow she still managed to smile. Her strength was astounding and heartbreaking, and Tony both admired and  _hated it_ at the same time.  
  
“The house belongs to my Mama’s side of the family, the Carbonells.” he continued. “And it is mine to do with as I please. When all this is over, I will take you to see it and if you like it in Chioggia, you can stay as long as you want.”  
  
Wanda’s mouth parted in surprise and Tony picked up one of the books on the table, a thick geography volume with beautifully colored maps of various regions, and spread it open on his lap and onto Wanda’s knees as well.  
  
“Here, this is Brescia.” Tony tapped the page and traced the outline of the city with his finger. “This is where I was born and raised. My Papa, he owns as much of this city as the  _famiglia_ Beretta does, maybe even more.  _Famiglia_ Carbonell, my Mama’s side, they are from here around  _Venezia_ and the house that is mine is here–” he drew a line along the coast. “–most of a days travel from the city and high on the bluffs. The sea is in front of us, and the mountains behind. It is beautiful, you will love it. I will take you into Milan to buy dresses, we will go to Venice for the best food you’ve ever had and in the fall we can pick the fruit from the trees and you can bake to your heart’s content.”  
  
“Antonio.” Wanda breathed, smoothing her hand over the page as if she could see the house itself. “Do you mean it? You’d take me?”  
  
“When all this is over.” Tony repeated, and leaned over to kiss her temple. “I promise. You will love Italy, and I’m sure there will be a nobleman or two or a dozen clamoring for your hand by the end of season.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Noble _women_?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, so long as they are rich.” Wanda said loftily, then burst into laughter at Tony’s horrified expression. “Antonio, surely you know me better than that! I’d rather a poor person who loves me with their entire heart than one who wants to ply me with gold and jewels then run off to a mistress.”  
  
“Smart woman.” Tony commented and this time Wanda leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the soup.”  
  
“Come downstairs with the rest of the family.” She scolded on her way out the door. “Stop being alone so much, Antonio. If you weren’t so odd, we wouldn’t have to be so nosy!”  
  
“If I weren’t so odd–” Tony shook his head and curled back up into his blankets and pillows, reopening his novel and getting back into the story. “Cos,  _I’m_ the odd one in this family.”  
  
As soon as Wanda’s steps had faded down the stairs, Tony set his novel aside and reached for the envelope from James, undoing the flap and pulling the pages out to read them again, just like he’d done every day since the letter had arrived.  
  
James’s handwriting was awful, near illegible at times, and several lines were scribbled through as if James had started to write and then changed his mind, started a second time and crossed it out as if it were terrible or too personal or something he hadn’t meant to say.  
  
Tony loved the mistakes in a selfish sort of way. Everything Tiberius had ever written him had been perfunctory and proper, but James wrote as if he’d been pouring out his thoughts without pausing to consider how it might sound and Tony loved that.  
  
 _Tony._  
  
I feel like a fool writing you so soon after leaving the manor  
but i don’t know when I’ll see you again  
 ~~I think we left a lot of things unsaid.~~  
I said all the wrong things to you and I’m sorry

 _I’m sorry sweet thing, for about a hundred different things. Sorry for Rumlow and yellin at you_ ~~and being too stubborn to say what i should~~  
  
I was in love once, ~~love isn’t even a big enough word for what it was.~~  
His name was Stevie, that’s who he was to me  
He loved me  
I loved him  
We didn’t have to hide when we were together and I miss that. Miss him. Didn’t think I could miss someone how I miss him.  
 ~~I’m drunk~~  
He tamed something in me I didn’t know needed taming  
And I was scared when I lost him, came  ~~home~~ to Sokovia because I didn’t know where else to go.  
That’s why you’re here, right? Cos you didn’t know where else to go? Sure am glad you ended up here.

 _Talia says there are shadows in your heart and there’s winter in my soul and if we aren’t careful we will hurt each other_  
But our hearts and souls aren’t involved in this  
At least that’s what we keep saying  
 ~~I’m lying about it, are you?~~  
I already miss you  
I shouldn’t say that but for the first time since Stevie I don’t want to go to war, don’t want to fight anymore. Just want to be home. 

_~~You make me think of home~~   
~~When this is over I want you in my arms~~ _

_There’s no way for you to write me back, I can’t tell you where I am or where I am going, but I’ll be thinking about you sweet thing  
When I come home next, I hope to find you asleep in my bed  
Yours  
James_  
  
Tony refolded the letter and put it away, curling back into the blankets he’d taken from James’s room and closing his eyes, a smile hinting at the corner of his lips.  
  
 _I’m lying about it, are you?_


	16. Chapter 16

Three months absent from the war, and James had almost forgotten the sing of steel in his hand, the shocking bluntness that was  _bone_ when his blade wedged between ribs.  
  
Three months, and he’d almost forgotten the gag inducing scent of blood splashing along his wrist, and the awful feel of something  _breaking_ beneath his hands when his sword was knocked away and he had to kill the soldier with brute strength.  
  
Three months didn’t seem long enough to forget  _any_ of that, and yet James had almost forgotten it altogether. He didn’t know if he was grateful for the reprieve he’d found at home and in Tony’s arms, or if he hated that he’d been so distracted by dark eyes and a beautiful smile that war had gone from something he knew to something suddenly  _abruptly_ horrifying.  
  
And oh, was it  _horrifying_ , both in it’s terror and in the simple way James remembered how to do it all.

And do it all so  _well_. 

Twenty six of the Tsar’s men died the day the Winter Soldier led the rebel army to raid a weapons cache, ten of them falling beneath the Winter Soldier alone. James was a whirlwind with his blade, slicing and cutting and spraying the snow with crimson red, cutting through the enemy soldiers without hesitating, and the weapon cache fell apart in little more than an hour.  
  
“Impressive.” Rumlow wiped a smear of blood from his face with his jacket sleeve. “Three months at home and you still fight as if the devil himself is at your heels.”  
  
“What’s your point?” James didn’t bother wiping the blood from his face or his hands, choosing instead to kneel by one of their wounded and hold him down while another put cursory stitches into his arm. “Three months isn’t long enough to erase instinct.”  
  
“No, but it’s long enough to fall in love, and we all know what love does to a man.” Brock’s mouth lifted in a smile that came no where near reaching his eyes. “You know it more than most, I suppose.”  
  
James went very still, as did the soldier beneath him, and for a brief second, Brock wondered if he’d pushed his old friend too far. “Komandir, I only meant-”

James answered, “I know what you meant. And you’re right, I know more than most that  _love_ drives a man to greater violence than he’d be capable of otherwise. Nothing forces a soldiers focus more than fighting for home and family.”

  
“Hm.” Brock brushed off the answer and went off to help load the newly captured weapons.  
  
Gabriel finished stitching up the wounded soldier then looked up to meet his  _Komandir’s_ eyes. “We should have a word about Rumlow.” 

James shook his head. “Not here. We’ll talk later.”  
  


************  
  
Normally James would first gather supplies for his men and then see about ammunition– weapons were no good to soldiers too hungry to fight, after all– but this time he did things backwards. First he had taken the army to the weapons cache earlier that week and then in a quick turn around, James brought his men down to raid a supply storage only a few days later.  
  
This storage wasn’t as closely guarded as the weapons stash had been, and since news of the first raid hadn’t yet reached these soldiers, the Tsar’s men were nowhere near prepared for a swarm of rebels to pour out of the woods and into their small camp.  
  
It was quick work and easy work, James and his men brutal in their efficiency and the guards lay dead within a matter of minutes, the rebel army’s wagons and horses were loaded with the commandeered supplies with in the hour. 

James hauled himself up onto Zima ready to give the order to roll out again–

–but an enemy soldier burst from the stables on horse back, bolting for the hills at a dead run.  
  
“Rumlow!” James shouted. “You said you cleared the stables!”  
  
“He must have been hiding!” Rumlow shouted back, and retrieved his pistol to fire a few shots in the runaway’s direction.

James didn’t have to be an expert marksman to know there was no way Rumlow would hit the soldier with his pistol, not from this distance and not when the rider was swerving every which way as he made for the trees.

But James  _was_ an expert marksman and he knew that not only would Rumlow never hit the soldier, but that his angle of sight was off completely.  
  
Rumlow wasn’t even attempting to stop the man.  
  
With something  _uncomfortable_ twisting in his stomach, the same sort of  _uncomfortable_ that had settled in his core when Rumlow had come to the manor unannounced and had been surprised to see them all still present, James lifted his rifle from Zima’s back and put it to his shoulder.  
  
One breath in and out, and James squeezed the trigger, taking the escaping soldier out with a shot through the back of the head and spilling him in a limp heap to the ground.  
  
“Go get his horse.” James ordered, and when Brock turned to him in confusion, James said again, “Go get his horse, Rumlow. You didn’t clear the stables, so you get to fetch the horse so we can take it back to camp.  _Now_.”  
  
Rumlow nodded and shrugged and went to get the horse without another word.  
  
“Did you check the stables?” James asked Gabriel tersely, and the other man shook his head. “Only Rumlow?” A slow nod and James cursed. “Damn it. Alright, load up and head out. I’ll be along shortly.”  
  
James waited until Brock had tethered the extra horse to his own and then they set out for the return ride to camp together, riding in silence for the better part of an hour before Rumlow finally said, “Something is on your mind, James. What is it?”  
  
James remained quiet and after another moment, Brock tried again, “It’s easy for a single man to hide in the stables,  _Komandir_. I wasn’t going to take the time to search every single stall and behind every horse while we were trying to load supplies. And you picked him off easily. What’s the problem?”  
  
“You weren’t even aiming at him.” James said flatly. “You were aiming too far left.”  
  
“My sights are off on my pistol and I haven’t had the time to get them re-calibrated.” Brock sent James a frown. “I was trying to compensate.”  
  
“If your sights are off, why didn’t you use your rifle?”  
  
“Because my pistol was already in my hand.” Rumlow reached over and snagged Zima’s bridle, bringing the stallion to a halt and staring over at James. “Why the questions? Are you accusing me of something? Have I done something to ruin your trust?”  
  
Zima tossed his head and the bridle slid from Rumlow’s grip as James urged the mount forward again. “Seems interesting that one of the most blood thirsty men I know ignored a chance to kill an enemy soldier.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“I’ve seen you put a knife in someone’s temple because they spilled a drink on you.” James interrupted. “So why are you letting one of the Tsar’s men escape?”  
  
“He was a  _boy_.”  
  
“War makes men of us all.” James returned, cutting a sideways glance at his lieutenant. “There are no  _boys_ once you put a gun in their hands. Did you or did you not check those stables?”  
  
“This is about Natalia, isn’t it?” Brock changed the subject, avoiding the question. “You’re angry that I went with her to Italy instead of sending word so you could stop her. Angry that I let her bring home another husband instead of forbidding it.”

“This has nothing to do with Natalia.” James urged Zima into a faster trot. “But since you brought it up, tell me. Why  _did_ you leave my sister and her new husband for the soldiers to find in Kiev? Seems like another instance where you should have checked the perimeter and the surroundings and failed to do so.”  
  
“I think you’ve been away so long, you are growing paranoid.” Brock scoffed. “There was a time you knew that not all was black and white in war, that sometimes to preserve ourselves we have to put others in danger.”  
  
“You put my family in danger to preserve yourself?” James wanted to know, and Rumlow cringed.  
  
“That is  _not_ what I meant.”  
  
“I think it’s time you start saying exactly what you mean, Brock.” James’s pale eyes flickered in warning. “Or I’ll start having to assume things and believe me, you don’t want that to happen.“

Brock paused and let James and Zima move ahead of him,  _dread_ causing his heart to clench.

No, he didn’t want the Winter Soldier assuming anything about him at all.  
  
**********  
“Do you trust him?” James asked that night as he helped Gabriel unload the wagon at camp, checking to make sure no one else was listening. “Do you think he is still together with us?”  
  
Gabriel had joined the cause when Samuel and Ronin came home with James, a soldier with nothing to lose since the fight had already taken his family. But unlike most of the rebels with nothing to lose, Gabriel wasn’t in the war for revenge, neither was he there with a score to settle. He was fighting because it was the right thing to do, because Sokovia needed to be free, because the Tsar had forgotten about his smaller countries and was letting his Generals run the army rough shod over whomever they pleased.  
  
James trusted the man implicitly and after Samuel and Ronin had decided to stay with Talia, Gabriel took over as in-command behind Rumlow. He would know better than anyone else how Rumlow had been acting while James was gone and if there was any reason for James’s growing distrust.  
  
“ _Komandir_?” Gabriel was a  _giant_ of a man, lifting more than James could without breaking a sweat. “Do I trust who?”  
  
“You know who.” James tossed a fifty pound bag of beans in the makeshift cellar. “Do you trust him anymore?”  
  
“I trust him as much as you do, Komandir.” Gabriel replied easily and James snorted a laugh.  
  
“That’s not what I asked.”  
  
“Alright.” Gabriel set down his box and dusted huge hands down his thighs. “Ten years I’ve followed you into battle, Winter Soldier. And under Rumlow’s command, we lost more men in two weeks than we’ve lost in an entire year with you. We went through an entire months store of ammunition, and he didn’t care. He sent us into battle ill prepared and didn’t even let us stop to bury the dead before we were on our way out again.”  
  
James’s face set like stone, and Gabriel finished, “I don’t trust him at all,  _Komandir_. But I never have. He is loyal to only you, and even that might not be true anymore.”  
  
“…I can’t risk twenty years and the loyalty of my second in command on a suspicion and a handful of bad decisions.” James said quietly and Gabriel said just as quietly–  
  
“–so you would risk our revolution and our lives instead?”  
  
***********  
“I heard they tried to draw and quarter him, and  _that’s_ why his left arm is hurt.” Mischa was fourteen years old and confident he knew all there was to know about the world, or at least all there was to know about everything except  _women_ , but all grown men knew women were unknowable, right? “Soldiers tied him to a set of stallions and tried to rip him apart, but not even  _that_ could kill the Winter Soldier.”  
  
“That’s not true.” Dmitri was thirteen and confident his brother Mischa knew exactly nothing about  _anything_ , especially not about women. “Nobody gets drawn and quartered anymore, and if they did? Stallions could tear the Winter Soldier apart without even trying.”  
  
“No.” Mischa scowled at his brother and scrubbed harder at the saddle on his lap, working to get the blood stain from the leather. “No, they couldn’t. The Winter Soldier would figure out how to loosen the bonds or something so he could escape.”  
  
“Can’t escape from soldiers tryin’ta kill you.” Dmitri insisted. “Winter Soldier or not, too many people around and he’d get caught for sure!”  
  
“Well….” Mischa thought about it for a minute. “Maybe his sister helped him disappear. The Black Widow.”  
  
“The Winter Soldier’s sister is named the Black Widow?” Dmitri’s eyes went very wide and Mischa lifted his chin proudly, pleased at having impressed his stubborn brother. “What if she helped him escape gettin’ drawn and quartered!”  
  
“I hear she’s so pretty even the Tsar wants to bed her.” Mischa lowered his voice and waggled his eyebrows. “And that she’s married and killed five different husbands!”  
  
“Oh my gosh!” Dmitri dropped the bridle he was working on. “ _Five_?!”  
  
“Rumlow says her new husband is from Italy! A prince!”  
  
“ _OH MY GOSH_!”  
  
“I heard she killed her Da.” Feeling very self important now, Mischa nodded as if he were certain. “The stories say–”  
  
“Those who listen to scary stories find themselves visited by horrors.” A deep voice from the doorway and both Mischa and Dmitri jumped, the older brother letting a little scream slip as he dropped the saddle from his lap. “And you boys are far too young for that sort of terror, so don’t invite it to your rooms.”  
  
“Oh oh oh,  _komandir_.” Dmitri snapped off a quick salute and elbowed Mischa to do the same. “We didn’t know you were there.”  
  
“And yet you were talking so loudly about myself and one of the revolutions best spies that anyone could have overheard.” James said flatly. “What would you have done if I were an enemy soldier, sneaking into camp because the stable boys are too busy chattering to pay attention?”  
  
“Sorry,  _komandir_.” Mischa flushed in embarrassment. “But um– is your sister really called the Black Widow?”  
  
“And did she save you from being drawn and quartered!?” Dmitri butted in. “Is she that good of a spy?”  
  
James should have been stern with the boys, maybe even shouted and sent them back to their quarters for the day. Such careless talk with the older soldiers would have ended in some sort of physical discipline, punishment for talking when they were supposed to working, specifically for talking about their Commander and his family when they were supposed to be working.  
  
But Mischa and Dmitri were only boys, really boys. Practically children really, more than a handful of years younger than Pietro, and following the army because they had no home, no family, no one to look after them. James let them care for the horses and ensured they were safe at all times, he knew they didn’t mean any harm.

When it was obvious their  _Komandir_ wasn’t angry at their nosiness, Dmitri asked again, “Is your sister really a great spy?”   
  
“My sister is the sort of woman that men dream of loving and are terrified of disappointing.” James finally said and even though Dmitri scrunched his nose in confusion, Mischa nodded as if he knew exactly what James meant. “And if I were ever captured and held long enough to be drawn and quartered?” 

James raised his eyebrows and both the boys widened their eyes. “My sister would rescue me, then kill me herself for being so stupid.”  
  
Two pairs of very big eyes stared up at James, and he let himself smile the tiniest bit before jerking his thumb towards the doors. “Go on with you.” he said, not unkindly. “And next time be aware of who might be listening when you’re talking.”  
  
“Yes sir.” Mischa said quickly, and dragged Dmitri behind him as he ran for the door. “Thank you,  _komandir_.”  
  
James shook his head and went right to Zima’s stable, crooning a quiet hello to the war horse before pushing the beast aside and feeling for the hidden panel in the floor of the stall.  
  
There had been many places James called headquarters in the war, but no matter what, he chose a stall for Zima that no one else ever used, and installed a panel near the back to place a few specific items. No one would dare disturb a war horse of Zima’s size, so no one would ever think to look in the stall, and James considered it a nearly fool proof hiding spot.

This was where he kept an extra pistol, his personal maps of Sokovia and surrounding areas, detailed accounts of every battle and skirmish between his soldiers and the Tsar’s men, and the few private letters from home James had deemed worthy to keep.  
  
There was one from Talia, written years ago when he’d first come back to Sokovia and had gone out of his way to avoid seeing his sister or her father Ivan. Natalia had written to ask that James come home, that he at least let her know he was alright, and to remind him that they would always be family. James had opened and read the letter once, then put it aside. He’d never read it again but he’d also never thrown it away.  
  
Another letter from Samuel and Ronin dated almost three years previous, the words clear and concise as the two men informed James of their intention to love and take care of Natalia for the rest of their lives, to care for the twins and to ensure the family’s safety by staying on at the manor. James had returned to the manor after receiving that letter, only for Natalia to  _insist_ that James let Ronin and Samuel stay with her.  
  
She hadn’t known that James had already given his soldiers his blessing, as well as a  _warning_ as to what would happen if they ever broke his sister’s heart.  
  
A third letter, the pages yellow and worn, folded and refolded and folded again more times than James could count. The writing was thin and nearly delicate, a stark contrast to the man that had written the beautiful words, poetry and sweet phrases that had been whispered into James’s ear and then jotted down for him to keep in his uniform.  
  
The paper no longer smelled like Steve’s cologne, and the drawing in the corner– a hilariously pornographic sketch meant only to make James laugh– had faded ages ago.  
  
It had been years since James had read the letter, and even though his fingers lingered on it today, James didn’t pick it up. He tucked it over with the other two letters and pulled out the maps before putting the bag back in the panel and sliding it shut.  
  
“Shhh, beautiful.” he whispered to Zima as the horse bumped into him. “You just keep doin’ what you’re doin’ and guarding my secrets, huh?” Zima nickered and James felt around for a piece of apple from the bin and fed it to the big stallion. “ _Spasibo_ , lovely. Thank you.”  
  
He closed the door to the stall and made it only two steps before Rumlow spoke up, “Still hiding your letters beneath Zima’s hooves?”  
  
James quelled the instinct to lash out and break his lieutenants nose for startling him, managing to keep his reaction to nothing more than an irritated expression. “I don’t like when people follow me around, Rumlow. I like it even less when they stand and wait to announce their presence.”  
  
“I’m not following you around.” Rumlow scoffed. “You told me to meet you by the stables, so here I am, just as you ordered. I heard you order Mischa and Dmitri away, and I kept my distance when you went into Zima’s stall. That’s it.”  
  
James’s jaw clenched but he didn’t respond, stuffing the folded map beneath his arm and motioning for Rumlow to follow him away from the stables.  
  
“The men are noticing, you know.” Rumlow ducked into the tent that served as James’s quarters and waited until James had spread the map out across the table before continuing, “How you’re acting since you came back, I mean.”  
  
“And how am I acting?” James pulled out his notes from the last few weeks– surveillance reports from field agents, positions of the Tsar’s men, information from the villages around the last several skirmishes– and started marking on the map.  
  
“Like you don’t want to be here.” Rumlow said bluntly. “We lost almost sixty men within a few weeks, and the boys want their revenge, they want their pound of flesh and pint of blood from the Tsar. You’ve only approved minor campaigns and they’ve been nothing more than raids for ammunition and supplies. Three weeks since our last foray and we are sitting here twiddling our thumbs while the Winter Soldier looks at maps in his tent.”  
  
“Who approved the campaigns where we lost so many men?” James didn’t have to look up from his map to know Rumlow had tensed in his seat. “Who sent our soldiers out to die on information that hadn’t been verified by myself?”  
  
“…We needed to–”  
  
“Who approved it, Rumlow?” James met his lieutenants gaze with ice cold eyes. “I was absent no more than three months and we’ve gone longer without making a move on the Tsar. Who approved the campaigns?”  
  
“…I did.”  
  
“On whose authority.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“On whose  _authority_ , Rumlow?” James shouted, and the other man flinched away. “Tell me! While I was away taking care of my family, while I was away from war for the first time years, who authorized not one but two battles that took away sixty of our men?  _Sixty_! You complain that we’ve only been doing supply runs? I have widows and children to feed through the winter now because their fathers and sons were cut down when they never should have been fighting in the first place! How am I supposed to feed them without supplies?“  
  
Rumlow set his jaw and looked away, folding his arms stubbornly. “It was necessary–”  
  
“It is  _never_ necessary!” James smashed his fist into the table and the spindly legs shook beneath the force. “Almost ten years I’ve been fighting this war and I have never lost that many men at once! We fight in the shadows, Rumlow! If I wanted to line our boys up and send them marching to their death across an open field I would have stayed on the continent and fought that bullshit war with the Yanks!”  
  
Furious silence in the tent, and then Rumlow– “The information was good, James. I checked and double checked. You’re acting like I purposefully sent those boys to the slaughter, but I had every reason to think we’d win that battle. The information passed on to me was faulty. There is a problem with one of our spies, a weak link in the chain somewhere. You cannot blame me for that.”  
  
“You think we have a mole.” James snapped. “A traitor in our force?  _Honestly_?”  
  
“You have to believe that, or you have to believe I am sending our men out into ambushes and not saying a damn thing.” Rumlow challenged, and when James muttered a curse, he added, “Which is it,  _Komandir_? You and I have been fighting side by side since we were children. Is it a traitor, someone bought off by the Tsar’s men who is sharing our plans with the enemy, or am I killing dozens of us for no apparent reason?”  
  
James was quiet long enough for Brock’s mouth to fall open in disbelief. “James, you can’t  _seriously_ –”  
  
“I want all our men in.” James finally said. “Every single one of them. If there is a traitor, I will find him and when I do? He will  _pay_ for this.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“Bring them all in. Now _._ One way or another, I will find this traitor.”  
  
**************  
Two dozen messages went out from James’s head quarters that night, each carried on a swift horse with a trustworthy soldier to a spy in one of the many cities the rebels had infiltrated.  
  
Every message said the same thing: terse instructions for the spies to return to camp along with the messenger, to take no longer than twenty four hours to pack their belongings and leave, and to bring their most recent information along with them.  
  
Rumlow was tasked with bringing the three spies settled into the capital, and James warned him, “Be careful, Brock. If any of our spies were traitors, it’s most likely the ones in the capital. Be careful and watch your back with them.”  
  
“I’ll be fine.” Rumlow promised, clapping James on the shoulder. “We’ll figure out who this is, alright? See you back here in a few days.”  
  
“Shouldn’t take you more than five days round trip.” James confirmed. “Any longer and I’ll start to worry, so if there is a delay, send word any way you can.”  
  
“I will.” Rumlow saluted his commander and swung up onto his horse, whistling sharply to get the rest of the parties attention. “You know your mission and your marks! Be aware of your surroundings and trust no one but yourself!”  
  
A chorus of answers from the assembled riders, and Rumlow spurred his horse into a run and tore from the camp, followed closely by the rest of the men whooping and cheering on their way.  
  
James waited until the last rider had disappeared over the hills in the distance and then turned back to the still waiting soldiers.  
  
“Break this camp down now.” he ordered, voice flat and tone even and eyes sparking with a cold sort of  _hate_ the soldiers had never seen before. “Be silent and be quick and when you are finished, I expect you assembled and ready to leave.”  
  
“Komandir?” One of the men spoke up uneasily. “Where are we going?”  
  
“Not far.” James ground out. “Only far enough to find a traitor.”  
  
*****************  
  
Neither the men riding to collect the spies nor the spies themselves, knew they would be intercepted halfway back to camp by another member of James’s army. Every spy and every messenger was blindfolded, their horses tethered together, and with nothing more than a “The  _Komandir_ had a change of plans.”, they were taken away to a secondary location.  
  
Thanks to the blindfolds, they had no way of knowing the tiny house tucked away in the hills was more than twenty miles from the old camp but only mere miles from the new camp, and since there were bars on the windows and locks on the doors, no one had anyway of getting outside to check their surroundings.  
  
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Jacque, a Frenchman masquerading as a musician as a way to spy for the revolution, kicked back in a chair and lit a cigar. “James has never led us astray before, and if this is some sort of witch hunt for a traitor, I have nothing to hide. Do any of you?”  
  
The room exploded into angry assurances that no one gathered was a spy, that the fault of the last few battles lay with their leaders, with James’s absence and Rumlow’s habit of playing  _Komandir_ even though he didn’t have the authority or the resources–  
  
“Where  _is_ Rumlow?” someone else asked, and the room went silent.  
  
 _“Where the hell is Rumlow?”_  
  
*****************  
  
James stood at the top of the hill a few miles from the old camp and watched with clenched fists as the Tsar’s men set it on fire.  
  
After the men had broken down the camp, James had given them new coordinates and then stayed behind to set it all up again. Ratty blankets strung on rope to look like tents, broken chairs and tables balanced just enough to look real, a few lanterns hung and lit and a pot of beans and meat boiling over on the fire had been all it took to make the camp still look inhabited in the night.  
  
Three days, three days of pacing and waiting and  _tonight_ James had watched through his scope as the Tsar’s men came through the hills directly for the camp. They hadn’t altered from their course or even spread out to surround the camp until they were nearly on top of it, which meant the soldiers had been told exactly where to go and how big the camp was, and since they sent flaming arrows into the camp before trampling through it on their horses, James knew they’d been given maps of the base layout.  
  
Arrows had landed where the ammunition stores had sat, others where James’s headquarters had been, at least a dozen onto the empty but still standing stable structure.  
  
There were shouts of anger and alarm when the soldiers found the camp empty, and now the area was nothing more than a fireball, blazing high into the night sky and incinerating everything James had left behind–  
  
–and the last remnant of his trust.  
  
James wheeled Zima around and kept the horse at a near run for the entire night, up and down the hills, over the river and through the dense woods until he finally made it to the new camp at day break.  
  
“ _Komandir_.” Everyone at the camp was safe, and James dismounted Zima to hand him off to Mischa. “ _Komandir_ , Gabriel has returned and has a message for you.”  
  
“Thank you, Mischa.” James took the time to ruffle the boys hair, and to pat Dmitri on the back as well as he passed. He was so angry he was almost shaking, so angry he was ready to  _scream_ , but it wasn’t the boys’ fault and they didn’t deserve his wrath.  
  
 _No boy ever deserved to be the brunt of a grown man’s wrath._  
  
“Gabriel.” James ducked into his tent and gave the man a short nod. “Tell me in as few words as possible.”  
  
“ _Komandir_.” Gabriel tipped his head in deference, and handed over the reports he’d collected from the soldiers they’d sent to intercept the other messengers and take everyone to the safe house.  
  
Each soldier had written down the names of everyone in their party, and James knew only one name would be missing– the name of the traitor that had turned the Tsar’s men onto the camp and then hadn’t returned. Most likely the man would feign illness or even go so far as to pretend to be captured, while in reality he would be telling the Tsar’s men that almost everyone involved in the revolution would be at camp, spies and supplies and the  _Komandir_ himself. It would be a quick and brutal blow by the Royal Army, one fell sweep to bring the Sokovian revolution to an end once and for all, wiping out most of the main army in one hit.  
  
Any remaining pockets of rebellion would be easily squashed and with the help of just one traitor, Sokovia’s hopes for freedom would be erased.  
  
“Only one man did not return with his party.” James didn’t even look at the lists. “Am I correct?”  
  
“Yes sir.” Gabriel inclined his head. “And it is who you thought.”  
  
“What was the excuse given?”  
  
“The Tsar’s men swarmed them as they were leaving town, the lieutenant managed to kill one soldier before the others subdued him and he was taken away.”  
  
 _The lieutenant. Brock Rumlow._  
  
“You’re  _sure_.” James bit out and Gabriel nodded wordlessly. “Thank you. Do not speak of this to anyone.”  
  
“Of course,  _Komandir_.”  
  
James waited until Gabriel had left the tent before he unfolded the papers, reading through the hastily written reports until he came to the one Rumlow should have written.  
  
 _Six of the Tsar’s men came out of the woods and ambushed us as we were leaving the city, Rumlow ordered us to go ahead and tried to fight them off. He killed one and was dragged away by the others.  
They must have had us under surveillance to know we were all leaving that day, how else could they ambush us?  
_  
“Rumlow.” James crumpled the paper in his hand, then threw it into the fire, watching the letters burn away beneath the flame.  
  
Twenty something years he and Rumlow had fought side by side, from the schoolyard to the army and back again. He had trusted Brock with his own life, with mission plans and recruiting soldiers. He’d trusted Brock to have his back, to look after his family–  
  
James eyes slammed shut.  
  
 _His family.  
  
The manor.  
  
He had to get word back home._


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Generic apologies if Google Translate butchered anything in this chapter. I promise I'm trying)

_“Come home with me.”  
  
“What d’ya mean, come home with you.” James scoffed, blowing on his fingers to warm them enough to roll his cigarette. “Why would I do that?”  
  
“I dunno.” Stevie dropped onto the ground next to James and knocked their knees together. “Cos you should come ‘round and meet my Ma. S’just a few miles away and the Commander says us boys who live close enough to go home for Christmas can go. Want you to come with me.”  
  
“Don’t like moms.” James grunted and Steve knocked at him again. “Cut it out, Stevie. Gonna make me spill this.”  
  
“Give it here.” Stevie took the cigarette away from James and rolled it himself, quickly and efficiently. “And you do like moms, so quit lyin’ and come on.”  
  
“Stevie–”  
  
“Bucky.” Stevie glanced around to be sure they were alone, then leaned in and covered James’s mouth with his own for a long, lingering kiss. “C’mon baby. We can sleep on a real bed and be warm and dry and, you know–” a shy smile. “Almost two years we’ve been together and it’s about time my parents should meet the fella I’m gonna spend my life with, you know?”  
  
“Oh yeah?” The words came out a little hoarse, James’s annoyance of the nickname Bucky washed away by the love shining from those beautiful blue eyes. “You gonna spend your life with me, Stevie?”  
  
“So long as you don’t drag me back to Russia with you.” Steve inched closer and kissed James again. “You think you could stay around here with me? Learn to farm and all that? I’d let you chase me naked through th’corn fields and do all sortsa dirty things to me.”_

_James burst into startled laughter and Steve lunged forward with a kiss to shut him up. “Come home with me.” He breathed when they parted for air. “I love you, Buck, and I wanna spend this Christmas with you, with my fella. It’ll be the first of a hundred more we’ll have together.”_

_“I love you too.” James said gruffly. “I’ll come home with ya. Gotta see th’ fields so I know where to chase you, right?”  
  
Steve laughed and laughed and James had never loved anyone so much in his entire–_  
  
“ _Komandir_.”  
  
James straightened in Zima’s saddle when Gabriel rode up alongside, clearing his throat and affecting a neutral expression so his emotions weren’t quite as visible.

Last night, he’d dreamed about Steve for the first time in months, dreamed about that Christmas they’d spent at the Roger’s farm where Sarah had made them breakfast and Steve had dragged James out to the barn and whispered something about not having a present but maybe  _this_ would do, and then dropped to his knees.  
  
It had been the only happy Christmas James had ever had. The holiday season in Sokovia had been fraught with Ivan’s drinking and Ma’s tears, the atmosphere tense and brittle and James had hated it, but Christmas with Steve had been–  
  
–well it had been perfect. And it had been  _once_ , because by the next Christmas Steve was gone and James had taken a swing at some unfortunate soldier who made the mistake of calling him  _Bucky_.  
  
James dragged himself away from his dream and away from the startling– and  _upsetting_ – realization that he’d dreamed about Stevie and hadn’t woken up sad, hadn’t woken up missing the beautiful blond. James had woken up with a small smile and the twinge of memory in his heart and nothing more.

Usually James dreamed about Steve and spent the rest of the day in a heartbroken, emotional fog.

Today, he had dreamed about Steve and woken up with a smile and the pressing desire to wrap his arms around Tony and fall back asleep.

_It could only be healing, when the dreams didn’t hurt anymore, right?_

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” Gabriel said and James cleared his throat, waving the apology off and refocusing his thoughts. “But I wanted to ask if there was any word on Rumlow.” 

“No.” James said shortly. “Nothing from our spies reinstated in the cities, nothing from my other sources. I don’t want to think my best soldier and second in command is a traitor, but the longer there is no word of him being taking to the Tsar’s prisons or even killed and hung out as an example…”  
  
“…you have to think he’s hidden away somewhere with an ally, someone who is our enemy.” Gabriel finished. “I understand.”  
  
“Only a member of the regime could hide a traitor well enough to blind even the spies.” James agreed, jaw clenching in anger. “And there are only a few names ranked high enough to make that happen. Rumlow is either dead or hid away with friends in higher places than my soldiers and spies can reach.”  
  
“I thought you might say that.” Gabriel handed over a folded piece of paper. “So I made some inquiries of my own and uncovered this.”  
  
“This is an invitation.” James rubbed his thumb over the embossed script. “Why–” he stopped when he saw the name at the top. “Mikhail Dyuzhenkov. His father the Lord Kirillovich is the one who brought Talia’s Da to trial and facilitated his execution.”  
  
“The heir to the family that has tried to dismantle  _your_ family for over a decade now.” Gabriel agreed. “If you were a traitor to the cause, looking to upend your  _Komandir_ out of some form of spite or jealousy or greed, which family would you go to first, which family is the most likely to accept a rebel with open arms and to listen to the secrets you are spilling?”  
  
“You think Rumlow will be there at the ball.” Not for the first time in their years together, James was impressed by the soldier’s abstract way of thinking, by how Gabriel always saw an angle neither James nor Rumlow had thought of. “Or if he isn’t present at the party, he will be sequestered away in one of the rooms above. I know Mikhail from years ago, and unless his family has been granted more property from the Tsar, they only own the castle. Brock will be there.“  
  
“And if they have been granted additional holdings, that is simple enough to find out. I will send word to our men.” Gabriel said immediately. “How we will manage to get our men into the ball is another issue altogether. Most of the army has never been fit for high society, and after years on the edges, we are even less so. Even with your title and nobility, you are too well known as the Winter Soldier to be welcome in those circles.”  
  
“Hm.” James read the invitation one more time. “Fortunately, I know someone perfectly capable of mingling with the high society, some one who’s recent marriage has reinstated much of her credibility in the eyes of the noble families.”  
  
“The Black Widow.” Gabriel went a little pale. “I thought we weren’t allowed to ask the Widow for favors.”  
  
“We aren’t.” James said grimly. “But seeing as how I’ve given her two of my best soldiers to keep at home and in her bed, I think she might make an exception this time.”  
  
********************  
  
“I will absolutely  _not_ make an exception this time!” Natalia swept her hand across the side table and Tony grimaced as a decorative crystal plate shattered across the parlor floor. “The Winter Soldier thinks he can disparage my work, look down on me for what I’ve had to do for years simply to  _survive_ , but when he needs my help suddenly I’m worth his time! Oh no no,  _no_!”  
  
A string of curses in a mix of Russian and Sokovian that made Wanda gasp out loud and clap her hands over Pietro’s ears just before another decorative plate crashed into a wall.  
  
“Talia, my love–” Ronin was standing with his good ear tipped towards Natalia, signing  _calm down_  over and over. “Talia, James’s message said it’s about rescuing Rumlow. This is important.”  
  
“Rumlow should be castrated and left to rot!” Natalia shouted. “I will not force myself into a room full of people that despise me, people that look down at me, people that attended my Da’s execution with their finery and their gossip and their–their–”  
  
Another spew of curses except this time Samuel moved the vase before Natalia could throw it at the nearest window.  
  
“Sweetheart.” Samuel caught both of Talia’s wrists in one of his big hands. “This is  _important_.”  
  
“No.” Natalia’s green eyes blazed with fury. “No. I have finally  _finally_ left that life behind. We are happy here and we are safe and I will not jeopardize it because my brother wants to fight a losing war! If he wants to mount a rescue for that–” a burst of Sokovian Tony didn’t understand but knew couldn’t be good. “– _bastard_ Rumlow, he can do it himself. He and his rebels! I want nothing to do with this! I won’t do it!”  
  
“I think you should go.” Tony cut into the conversation and Natalia whirled around ready to unleash another tirade. “No no, listen,  _listen_.”  
  
Natalia was ramrod stiff, but Ronin still crossed the room and folded her into his arms, bundling her back to the couch and onto his lap to listen.  
  
“I don’t enjoy acting as your husband any more than you enjoy acting my wife.” Tony said calmly. “But the people who  _want_ to know will already know you returned from Italy with a husband and making an appearance is your chance to write the rules of how they see you, how they see  _us_.“  
  
“I do not care how–!”  
  
“Natalia.” Tony said gently. “Stories of you hiding away with your new husband, tucked away in the manor house and avoiding social engagements? It paints you as guilty, even if you have nothing to be guilty of. But arriving in a brand new gown with a well dressed husband at your side, covered in jewels and wearing fur and laughing and dancing the night away as if you have little care presents a very  _different_ picture.”  
  
Natalia pursed her lips and Tony continued, “And I’ve come to know you well in the last months, and I know you would never turn away the chance to to drink champagne and look down your nose at the people who are so convinced you are nothing more than the daughter of a traitor.”  
  
“I am not half as petty as you think.” She sniffed, and Samuel muttered, "Ain’t petty to want to show up people who’ve done you wrong, love. You deserve that.”    
  
“I’ll buy you a new dress.” Tony leaned over and patted Natalia’s hand. “We can go to the city a few days early and stay in a hotel so you can shop, rent a carriage to make a grand entrance, and you will be the best dressed woman at the ball. We can dance scandalously close as if we are madly in love and all eyes will be on us, which means no one will be watching as Samuel and Ronin sneak upstairs to find Rumlow.”  
  
 _The twins_. Ronin signed.  _Not stay home. Not safe_.  
  
Tony wasn’t as fast as the others at reading Ronin’s hands and he hesitated a moment before replying, “They can come along and stay in the hotel.”  
  
“But I want to go to the party!” Wanda burst out at the same time Pietro moaned, “Why don’t I  _ever_ get to do anything exciting!”  
  
“It wouldn’t be the worst to have extra eyes at the ball.” Samuel agreed. “Wanda to help keep track of Talia and Pietro to act as look out.”  
  
“James would kill us for bringing the children.” Ronin denied, shaking his head. “No.”  
  
“Ronin!” Wanda signed an impatient ‘ _I’m fine_ ’. “I can handle a knife and a sword better than most! I can wear one up my dress sleeve or on my thigh!”  
  
“And my shooting has improved!” Pietro argued. “I can help with more than being a look out! I’m old enough to help with a mission!”  
  
 _No. Not children_. Ronin signed, and then ordered, “You will stay at the hotel.”  
  
“Samuel.” Pietro pleaded, fixing the soldier with his best begging expression. “I’m ready. You know I am. Let me work with you and Ronin. I’ll listen to every order, I’ll stay put where you tell me, let me help.”  
  
Samuel met Ronin’s eyes over Natalia’s head and they exchanged the sort of non verbal conversation that only long time confidants could have, and as Ronin’s arms tightened protectively around Talia’s waist, the petite redhead interrupted, “I’ll have you both know that the final decision over whether or not the children come along with this lies with  _me_. If I won’t let my reckless brother endanger my family, I certainly won’t let you boys do it either.”  
  
“When Natalia gets angry, everyone is children and boys, hm?” Tony asked under his breath and Wanda covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh. “Would you like a new dress for the party, Wanda?”  
  
“Oh Antonio.” Wanda waved him off. “Even if Natalia allows us to go, the new dress you bought me in fall is more than enough.”  
  
“I’ve been to more parties than I can count.” Tony continued in the same low tone. “And in all those nights, I’ve never seen a woman wear the same dress. We are family now, and I have buckets of money. I might as well use some of the coin to buy you a dress, don’t you think?”  
  
“We do not love you because you are rich, Antonio.” Wanda reached over and squeezed his hand. “But I suppose a new dress  _would_ go along way towards ensuring I love you for a very long time.”  
  
Tony laughed out loud, disrupting the hushed conversation between Ronin, Samuel and Natalia and prompting Pietro to send him a confused look.  
  
“I would like to buy Wanda a new dress.” He announced, shoulders still shaking with laughter. “And since Pietro missed out on shopping the last time around, I’d like to buy him a new suit as well. I’ve been informed that purchasing new clothes ensures that I am a beloved part of the family for many years–”  
  
Pietro cracked up laughing too, and even Natalia tried to muffle a smile while Ronin and Samuel looked less impressed that Wanda’s love could  _apparently_ be bought with a new dress.  
  
“– I think we should go.” Tony finished. “Whether you decide to attend the ball or not, James needs Samuel and Ronin there. We can spend the week in the hotel and go to a concert in the gardens, perhaps.”  
  
“Antonio–”  
  
“It’s nearly Christmas, Talia.” Tony interjected and when Talia’s eyes widened, everyone knew she had completely forgotten the coming holiday. “We should go to celebrate the season, if for no other reason. The weather has eased and it will be safe traveling to Kiev, and we can lock down the manor, take the horses along– there’s no reason why we couldn’t take our time and enjoy ourselves.“  
  
“And we are safer away from the manor.” Samuel scrubbed both hands down his face. “Natalia love, we weren’t going to tell you, but James thinks Rumlow is a traitor. Part of why he wants to to get us into the city is in case soldiers come for the manor. No one can help us here, in the city we have men to call on.”  
  
“Rumlow is a traitor.” Natalia said the words slowly, clearly, far too calmly for the enormity of implication in the sentence. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”  
  
“James thought if you knew the circumstances you might be–” Samuel winced and Ronin finished, “–too angry, love. Can’t risk the mission because we are angry and reckless.”  
  
“James thought I’d risk the mission because I am  _angry_?” Talia’s voice remained that same deadly calm, and when she pulled from Ronin’s arms, he let her go without protesting. “My brother, the man who broke not one, not two, but  _three_ of my Da’s ribs when he returned home and I had a bruise where Da grabbed me? My brother, who was so heartbroken over losing Mama that he went to wage war on an entirely different continent?  
  
“Talia.” Wanda soothed “Please, you know that James is only thinking of your safety.”  
  
“ _I’m_ angry?” This time the vase didn’t escape Natalia’s wrath, smashing into pieces on the wall. “James– the man who came home with a broken heart and has given Sokovia the bloodiest decade in history– he thinks that  _I_ might be too angry and compromise a mission?”  
  
“My love–” Samuel tried to interrupt. “He knows Rumlow is a sensitive topic with all of us. Even the twins would be angry enough to hurt him given the chance and–”  
  
“Well he was right.” Natalia whirled around at the parlor door, skirts swirling at her feet and eyes flashing. “I  _am_ angry. If Rumlow is a traitor, I fully intend on cutting his lying tongue from his mouth using nothing more than the knife I keep to trim my fingernails. But I didn’t survive this wretched life this long by letting my emotions get the better of me.”  
  
“So we’re going?” Pietro raised his eyebrows hopefully. “Please? Maybe?”  
  
“I’ll need a new dress.” Natalia said importantly, and Wanda squealed in excitement. “Mikhail is an old friend, and by  _friend_ I mean he tried more than once to weasel his way under my skirts.” Ronin groaned and made an irritated gesture. “Hush darling, he never actually succeeded, but perhaps at this party I’ll give him a reason to think he might have a chance.”  
  
“Aren’t you forgetting about your husband?” Samuel pointed out, and Tony put his hands up and shook his head, insisting “I’m fine with being forgotten in this instance.”  
  
“Of course I haven’t forgotten about you, darling.” Talia stopped in front of the mirror propped on the parlor wall and discarded her morning robe, showing off her rather low cut nightgown, delicate lace and a nearly sheer fabric.  
  
Pietro and Tony looked away from the display while Wanda murmured, “Oh Talia, what lovely silk! Could I buy one of those–”  
  
“NO!” Ronin and Samuel shouted and Natalia finally cracked a smile.  
  
“No my love, this is the sort of negligee reserved for a woman in love or a woman about to do something very dangerous. It is the sort of thing to wear beneath a dress that is both scandalously low and devastatingly full, the sort of dress a man cannot resist.”  
  
“And where do I fit into this scheme?” Tony’s eyes were still averted, but he was smiling too. “Will I be hanging off your arm while you parade around in a dress both scandalous and devastating?”  
  
“Of course you will.” Natalia smoothed her hands down her sides, and admired her body in the mirror. “I do not love the designation Black Widow but I refuse to be ashamed of it. There is a reason they say my love is lethal, and nothing drives a man to be reckless more than  _another_ man standing so close to something he wants. So yes, Antonio. You will be at my side until we’ve created enough of a diversion for James and the others and once Mikhail is convinced he has me for the night–”  
  
She sighed a little. “I’ll be hard pressed not to put a stiletto through his throat, but I’ll make an attempt to play nice.”  
  
“Play as nice as you need, so long as you come home to us, my love.” Ronin said softly and Talia turned her gaze to her two soldiers, her wicked smile softening around the edges.  
  
“Only and always you, darlings. The display is necessary, what is worn underneath is only for you.”  
  
Tony pushed Pietro out of the room ahead of him and Wanda was hot on their heels, leaving Samuel and Ronin and Natalia to reassure each other of their devotion in… in various ways.  
  
“Can I really have another new gown, Antonio?” Wanda whispered, and Tony gave her a quick, one armed hug. “I’ve never had more than one new gown a year!”  
  
“So long as it is nothing like what Natalia is planning to wear, I’ll buy you whatever you’d like.” Tony promised. “You too, Pietro. The season calls for gift giving, don’t you think? I should be spending my coin on my family.”  
  
“You’ve been calling us family lately.” Pietro noted, rummaging through the kitchen cupboards for something to snack on. “And you’re married to Talia which makes you Da, sort of. But then Ronin is more Da, Ronin and Samuel.”  
  
“And?” Tony folded his arms and waited with a smirk for Pietro to make his point.  
  
“So are you  _dyadya_?” Pietro pressed. “Should I call you Uncle, or  _dedushka_ , Grandpapa because you are old and stuck in your ways? Telling stories no one understands about places that probably don’t exist?”  
  
“Italy exists, Pietro.” Tony said dryly. “I  _assure_ you, Italy exists.”  
  
“Perhaps I shall call you  _brother_ , Antonio. You are closer to our own age than James is, surely not old enough to be Grandpapa.” Wanda decided with a quiet laugh. “Though I can’t imagine my brother buying me beautiful dresses!”  
  
“I’d buy you beautiful dresses if you were beautiful.” Pietro snorted and Wanda gasped something faux outraged. “Maybe more books for your long nose to get stuck in!”  
  
“Oh! You little–!” Wanda snatched at a roll and flung it at her brother. “You are so rude! Antonio, defend my honor!”  
  
“You are lovely, Wanda.” Tony assured her, and snagged a roll from the air when Pietro chucked it towards the pretty girl. “And Pietro, you are a menace. Both of you separate until you’ve stopped wasting food.”  
  
“Maybe we  _should_ call him Da, telling us how to behave.” Pietro muttered and slung an arm around Wanda’s shoulders as she giggled. “Come along, sister. You can read to me while I sharpen my sword.”  
  
“You should read to  _me_!” Wanda exclaimed as she followed Pietro up the stairs. “Telling me my nose is long! You are terrible!”  
  
Their voices faded away and Tony shook his head with a smile more fond than exasperated. Pietro and Wanda were– well they were ridiculous and hilarious and  _family_ , just like somehow Ronin and Samuel and Talia had gone from strangers he lived with to  _family_ and despite the war and the upcoming danger and all the uncertainty–  
  
– Tony had never felt more at home than he did right here in the kitchen of the manor house.  
  
He took a quick peek at the still closed parlor door, then reached into his pocket for the letter that had come along with the message to Samuel and Ronin, a half piece of paper folded over and over and marked with a simple T.  
  
Tony had already read the short note twice, but he still unfolded it and read it again.  
  
 _Moy Tanyo,  
  
I will find you in the gardens.  
  
James._  
  
 _The gardens_. Tony pushed down a flutter of nervousness, and then another that wasn’t nervousness so much as it was arousal, a pulse of  _want_ that made Tony clench his thighs and bite at his lip.  
  
He’d been dreaming of James, dreaming of their nights together, dreaming of the feel of calloused hands at his skin and hungry lips and a heavy weight opening his thighs. Tony had dreamed of Ty only  _once_ since James had left, a memory of one of their few, happy moments and any sort of dream he’d had afterwards had been solely James.  
  
James and  _only_ James and Tony–  
  
 _I will find you in the gardens._  
  
Tony needed to put some thought into what he would be wearing at the party as well.

“Antonio, do you want to come listen while I read to Pietro?” Wanda poked her head back into the kitchen and smiled at him. “Something to do while Talia and the others are occupied?”

“I’d love to, thank you.” Tony smiled and refolded the paper. “Wanda, what does  _moy tanyo_  mean?”

“Um–” Wanda scrunched her nose. “It means my secret, or  _mine secretly_. As if you were writing a letter to a forbidden love. Very sweet, but a little old fashioned. Natalia used to say it to Ronin and Samuel before they were allowed to stay here at the manor permanently.  _Mine, secretly_. As if to say, you are mine, you are my secret.”

“Oh.” Tony felt himself blush and he looked away from Wanda’s curious expression. “Let’s go read, then.”

****************  
****************  
  
( _Kiev_ )  
  
James crouched on the ledge of the bell tower and peered through optic glasses at the palace set in the square. It was a modest palace by most standards, a palace by name solely because the occupants were a tier lower than royalty and refused to live in anything less.  
  
A  _week_ he’d been watching the palace, watching everyone coming and going, the servants and messengers and visitors. He hadn’t seen Rumlow or anything that even  _looked_ like someone being smuggled into the palace, and the spies on the ground and in the kitchen hadn’t reported word of a visitor.  
  
James had been tempted to give up and chase a different way of tracking Rumlow down but today–  _today_ something had changed. A carriage with black curtains pulled across the windows and surrounded by guards had pulled into the drive. A man with a hood over his face and shackles on his wrists had been led from the carriage up the steps and shoved through the front door.  
  
James hadn’t seen the man’s face, but he recognized the walk as clearly as he recognized his own. Rumlow had a very signature walk, not quite bow legged and not quite a swagger. His left leg had been broken as a child and never recovered, the result of a fight that James had unequivocally won, using his fists to pummel Brock to a pulp for daring to talk about his Ma, breaking the bastards leg just for good measure.  
  
James’s Ma had been  _horrified_ , had dragged a thirteen year old James by the ear over to Brock’s house and told them to make up or else, and fearing the unknown of _what else_ , and desperate to erase the tears from his Ma’s face, James had apologized.  
  
He and Brock had gone through his recovery forced to read books and work their school sums together, and came out the other side as friends, as nearly brothers, taking on everything life had thrown their way.  
  
James had never had to fight Rumlow again, and Rumlow had always walked funny–  
  
–the same way he was walking  _right now._  
  
James had never wanted a gun in his fingers more than he did at that exact moment.  
  
“Traitor.” he cursed. “Goddamn son of a–”  
  
“ _Komandir_.” A soldier came up behind James in the bell tower and snapped off a quick salute. “You asked to know when the Black Widow came to Kiev.”  
  
“Yes.” James nodded shortly. “And?”  
  
“She and her husband are here.” The soldier handed over an address. “Along with the twins and your soldiers Samuel and Ronin. They are awaiting your orders.”  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
“A message from your soldiers.” He produced another sealed letter from his coat pocket, then turned on his heel and left, disappearing down the stairs to his position at the street.  
  
James tore the seal off and scanned the coded message from Ronin, noting the room numbers assigned in the hotel and the family’s plans for the next few days.  
  
And on the very bottom in Tony’s perfect print–  
  
 _-Il giardino, mio caro  
  
The garden, my darling._  
  
James allowed himself a small smile.  
  
The memories of Steve were always more vivid around the winter solstice, around the holidays but this year they had fond instead of agonizing, bitter sweet but not painful, and James knew the memories had lost their sting because he’d lost himself in something new.  
  
Some _one_  new.  
  
 _Tony_.  
  
In fact if James closed his eyes and thought of  _love_ , he saw dark eyes instead of blue, imagined a little waist instead of broad shoulders, a slow smile instead of a boisterous laugh, and it terrified him to his core.  
  
The Winter Soldier was not meant to love and yet– and yet–  
  
 _The garden, my darling_.  
  
James went back to his post watching the doors of the palace, scanning the many window along the front for any sight of Rumlow. He had a job to do, a mission to carry out, and a traitor to execute.  
  
Then he would win Tony’s heart in the shadows of a garden gazebo, and let the promise of  _love_ melt the ice from his soul.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Generic apologies for Google Translate)

Mikhail Dyuzhenkov had been raised a spoiled, bratty child and had grown into a surly, entitled man, dissatisfied with his lot in life though his family was high ranking nobility, churlish and stubborn for no reason other than to inconvenience others, concerned only about himself and his interests and the weight of his riches.  
  
But when it was announced that the Lady Natalia Romanova had entered his ballroom, Mikhail swallowed uncomfortably and retreated a few steps from the balcony railing so he wasn’t immediately visible from below, absentmindedly scratching at the scar that dissected his right palm from base of thumb to bottom of pinky.  
  
The scar was courtesy of the same Lady Natalia Romanova, who was the one and only thing Mikhail had never managed to acquire in his life. The volatile redhead hadn’t been impressed with Mikhail’s carefully practiced charm, and neither had she been swayed when Mikhail promised to use his station and influence to delay Ivan Romanov’s execution if only Natalia would join him for a more  _private_ encounter.  
  
For the effort of his charm, Mikhail had received a pointed but polite  _no thank you_ , and for the promise of his influence to secure a stay of execution, Mikhail had found himself bleeding, sliced just deep enough to leave a scar, not so deep as to tear the nerves and impede the use of his hand.  
  
Natalia had flipped the top of her ornate ring open to reveal a sharp spike and had cut it across Mikhail’s palm without even blinking, her full lips pulled into a smile that was nearly a sneer as she replied, “The way beneath my skirts is not found by promising to delay my Da’s execution, my Lord. Quite the opposite, in fact. You’d have better luck if you promised to kill the bastard  _faster_.”

That had been the last time Mikhail had seen the Lady Romanova, and his failure to win her company stung at the edges of his ego until he was nearly  _furious_ with it. 

And yet, despite the way his heart pounded at the chance to see the beauty again, despite his determination to have her this time around, Mikhail knew better than to rush into the situation uninformed. It was highly suspect that the week he was hiding a high level rebel officer was the same week the Black Widow came out of her seclusion to attend a holiday ball.

Mikhail was a surly,  _selfish_ bastard, but he was not foolish nor reckless.

“Who is she here with?” he asked his attendant, watching from the shadows the stream of revelers come to fill his ballroom. “Her brother? Other soldiers of the revolution?”  
  
“Apologies, my Lord.” the attendant hesitated. “Of whom are we speaking?”  
  
“The Lady Romanova.” Mikhail’s dark eyes searched the crowd gathered below. “Was she on the original invitation list? How many people departed the carriage with her, or is she here alone?”  
  
“I cannot imagine a Lady would attend without an escort, sir.”  
  
“This Lady would.” Mikhail said grimly. “I want to know who she is here with and where she is staying while she is in Kiev. I also will need to talk to our  _guest_ and see if he knows anything about her appearance or if his former compatriots had any plans inside the city this week.”  
  
“My Lord.” the attendant bowed and then went to find the requested information, and Mikhail stayed on his balcony for another half hour, watching with mild disinterest the myriad of fashions parading below him as carriage after carriage pulled up to his gates.  
  
Mikhail enjoyed a certain amount of influence among the Russian nobility, an influence that meant less in public gatherings and  _more_ in the sort of meetings that took place behind closed doors, the sort of meetings that the Tsar pretended not to know about, meetings that turned the tides of war and rewrote history before the ink had even dried on pages.  
  
Mikhail’s father had been tasked with dismantling the Sokovian revolution decades ago, and Mikhail had been raised with a soul deep loathing for the rebellion. They were farmers, his father had always scoffed. Peasants with pitchforks and not a hint of an idea in their empty heads, demanding more from their betters as if they were worth anything more than dirt.  
  
 _Farmers. Peasants. Simpletons._  
  
Mikhail had believed the derogatory rhetoric right up until he’d met the Lady Romanova and her bastard brother James Buchanan. Natalia was brilliant and well spoken, dangerous and unpredictable, heart breakingly deceptive one moment and ruthlessly sincere the next and her brother was no different. Not just a brute of a soldier but a master tactician, nobility far enough along the line to be sat among the Tsar’s court if he wished, but  _American_ enough to not care a single whit about formality and manners.  
  
The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow were two of the revolutions most influential soldiers, and Ivan Romanov had managed to keep them apart for years simply because he hated the boy and needed the daughter for something  _different_ altogether. But now Ivan was gone and there wasn’t anything besides family strife to keep Natalia and James from working together and dismantling everything Mikhail’s father had worked so hard to secure.  
  
 _Heaven help them all if the Widow and the Soldier had joined forces._  
  
The Lord Kirillovich was sure the rebels were nothing more than idiots stirred to the fight by a worthless leader, that Natalia Romanova was simply a pretty girl with a few secrets and that James was a brute looking for a brawl but Mikhail didn’t hold the same view.  
  
The revolution would have ended with Ivan’s death if Natalia was only pretty and if James was only out looking for a fight.  
  
No no, Mikhail didn’t believe that at all.  
  
“My Lord.” his attendant reappeared. “The Lady Romanova is here with her ward, Wanda Maximoff and both are escorted by the Lady’s husband,  _Signore_ Antonio Carbonell Stark, formerly of Brescia, Italy.”  
  
“Her husband.” Mikhail repeated. “So the stories of her returning to the country with a new husband are correct, then. And if he is from Brescia than he is either noble or a gunsmith, since Brescia is the seat of  _khozyaysto Beretta.”_  
  
“Apparently, My Lord.”  
  
“See that our guest is given food for the evening and secured in his chambers.” Mikhail decided. “I have questions for him, but they can wait. The Lady Romanova may be here simply to celebrate the season with her new husband but I don’t want Rumlow lurking in the shadows where the Black Widow might see him. I’ve only heard stories of how she kills, but all the same, I’d rather it not happen in my ballroom.”  
  
“ _Konechno_. Yes sir.”  
  
Another few moments of crowd watching, and Mikhail finally saw a flash of bright red hair, further accented by silver and gold feathers woven through what looked like an intricate style. The dress was eye catching and daring even from the balcony, full lips parting in a laugh Mikhail knew from experience was low and sultry, one hand perched on a tiny waist, the other waving as someone called a greeting.  
  
Understandably, every male– and quite a few female– heads were turned in her direction, some openly staring, others making an attempt to hide it behind a glass of champagne and she only smiled and lifted her chin because she knew why they were all staring.  
  
The Black Widow had arrived.  
  
****************  
  
“It’s almost frightening how easily you become the Black Widow.” Tony said under his breath as he escorted Natalia up the stairs and into the main ballroom. “All it took was a scandalous dress and a new pair of shoes and the woman who knits in evenings and gathers eggs from the chickens to make Pietro breakfast in the morning is completely different.“  
  
“My love, I am absolutely still that woman, but the proper motivation would turn any  _domokhozyayka to zhenshchina-ubiytsa_.” Natalia muttered back, gathering her skirts in one hand and flashing more than a necessary amount of ankle as she climbed the steps, sure to send the footman at the top a little smile as she went. “Don’t you think?”  
  
“A  _domo_ –” Tony tried again. “ _Domokhoz_ –”  
  
“It is like a woman who stays home.” Wanda supplied from Tony’s other side. “Talia is saying that the right motivation will turn any housewife into a murderess.”  
  
“And the opportunity to stab Rumlow in the throat is excellent motivation.” Talia finished “Not to mention the chance to remind Mikhail that I will never be his. A good day when I can ruin two fragile little men, don’t you think? Perhaps I’ll even eat their souls afterwards.”  
  
“How are Samuel and Ronin not terrified of you?” Tony whispered, and Natalia whispered back, “Who’s to say they aren’t, darling?”  
  
“Talia, everyone is staring at you.” Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and stood up straighter when a few more heads turned in their direction. “Do they always look at you like this?”  
  
“I suppose it depends on the occasion, but yes, usually they stare.” Natalia blew a kiss to a gentleman who stared long enough for his wife to slap him. “Whether they are staring because I am beautiful or staring because I am a supposed traitor to the state or staring because my gown is nearly cut to my navel and it seems impossible for my bosoms to still be straining towards the heavens–” 

Tony made a horrified,  _strangled_ sound and Talia’s lips curved into a smile. “–all of that is up for interpretation. Besides, Wanda my darling. I’m sure most of them are staring at  _you_.”  
  
“Oh.” Wanda looked down at her own dress, at the beautifully gathered material tucked to her waist and the wide neckline. “Do you think so? Antonio, are they staring at me?”  
  
“There’s no question that I am escorting the two most beautiful women in the city.” Tony answered diplomatically. “But Wanda, please, for all that is holy, don’t  _ever_ wear a dress like Natalia is wearing.”  
  
Wanda covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud and Natalia shook her head in mock disbelief, drawing her fingers along the scalloped neckline of her gown. “Antonio, are you saying you don’t approve of my gown? You bought it!”  
  
“Yes, and if I knew I was paying quite so much coin for quite so little material, I would have refused.” Tony said flatly. “Samuel and Ronin would string me up from the trees outside if they knew I was seeing so much of you right now.”  
  
“I love you.” Natalia stood on her toes and kissed Tony on the cheek. “And I’m sure both Samuel and Ronin appreciate your embarrassment.”  
  
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” Tony decided. “And I’ll need a drink to start our evening off if I’m to put up with this sort of thing all night. Onward, ladies. Onward.”  
  
Tony ushered the women further into the room and snapped his fingers so a servant would come by with a tray of champagne. Then he reached up and tilted his hat a little further on his head, settling it into a rakish tilt so the feathers in his cap sat at the same angle as the feathers in Natalia’s hair.  
  
Across the room and at the entrance to the ballroom balcony, Pietro caught the motion and smiled to himself.  
  
 _So far so good._  
  
Pietro’s instructions for the evening had been relegated to look out, the only job Natalia had approved for him, and honestly, the only job Pietro didn’t feel nervous about taking on. As much as he wanted to join up with Ronin and Samuel and run off to fight the war, the weight of the pistol in Pietro’s pocket made his mouth dry and his eyes a little wild, and though he’d never admit it, he was relieved to only be a look out.  
  
Keeping an eye on Natalia and Wanda as they walked the party with Tony, and being sure that no soldiers or guards made their way out to the balcony or over towards the servants entrance meant Pietro could spend the evening posted up casually against a column and trying to look as if he was perfectly comfortable in his new suit.  
  
Tony had assured Pietro that the stiff pants, fitted vest, heavily ruffled shirt and coordinating jacket were perfectly in fashion, but Pietro still hated it. His polished shoes pinched and the collar felt like it was strangling him and the vest was–  
  
“ _Dobryy vecher_.” A woman peeked over her fan at Pietro as she passed, painted lips curving into a smile that could only be inviting. “How are you, sir?”  
  
“I–I–” Pietro gaped after her a moment. “Um–  _dobryy vecher_  Good–good evening. Hello. Good evening.”  
  
“If you’re done with all that?” Pietro flushed a dull red when Samuel spoke from behind and slightly below him, the soldier keeping a watch out into the gardens to be sure none of the estate guards came too close.  “Tell me what Natalia and Wanda are doing.”  
  
“Both are still with Tony.” Pietro confirmed, cursing under his breath that his bungled attempt with the woman had been overheard. “There is sign of Dyuhenkov yet, but it shouldn’t be too much longer. There hasn’t been a new arrival to the ball in close to a quarter hour, and if Talia and Mikhail have the sort of history she says they do, he will be around soon.”  
  
“Nothing brings a dog sniffing around faster than the scent of something he’s been denied.” Samuel muttered in disgust. “Don’t let them out of your sight, do you understand? Especially Wanda. Tony and Natalia were born to this sort of environment, but I won’t ahve Wanda being swayed by some  _mudak_ and taken advantage of.”  
  
“You underestimate my sister.”  
  
“You underestimate what rich men think they are entitled to.” Samuel returned. “ _Watch them_.”  
  
“He’s right.” James spoke from the shadows of the curtains to Pietro’s left, having climbed up and over the balcony and through a window to remain unseen. “My sister has killed men for doing nothing more than looking at her too long, she is perfectly safe. Wanda is not. Do  _not_ take your eyes off her.”  
  
“ _Da, Komandir_.” Pietro nodded and kept his gaze trained on the ballroom. “I’ll keep watch.”  
  
“Good.” James grunted. “There is a another staircase on the opposite end of the ballroom. At no point are you to look away from Talia and Wanda for more than a few seconds, but get there and stand watch. Samuel and I are going to enter through the servants gate and go upstairs to search. If you see anyone moving that way, you are to signal Ronin and he will signal us.”  
  
“Where’s Ronin?” Pietro’s lips barely moved as he talked, a trick he’d practiced for hours in the mirror before much to Wanda’s laugh out loud delight and Natalia’s encouraging but amused smiles. “Where do I send the signal?”  
  
“Ronin’s in his nest.” came James’s rather vague answer. “He will see the signal, you just be sure to make it clearly.”  
  
Pietro gave another nod, and while there was nothing more than the quiet rustle of curtains to mark the disappearance of the Winter Soldier, Samuel at least whispered to let the boy know he had gone, and after a few minutes more, Pietro casually strolled across the ballroom towards the second set of stairs.  
  
Natalia saw Pietro move, but her smile never slipped nor did her expression falter as she listened to whichever inane topic a young  _dvoryanka_ was chattering on about. Tony saw Pietro as well, and nodded his head just once so the boy knew they were alright.  
  
Wanda didn’t see her brother at all, listening with starry eyes and flushed cheeks as an older gentleman murmured flirtatiously to her from behind his champagne glass.  
  
Pietro found himself a new spot and narrowed his eyes in Wanda’s direction, and high above the ballroom tucked away into alcove that seemed impossible to reach, Ronin’s fingers twitched towards his bow and arrow, just waiting for the man to make a move towards Wanda.  
  
They were after Rumlow tonight, but that wouldn’t stop Ronin from taking out anyone who looked at his  ~~daughter~~ ward the wrong way.  
  
He’d killed more men for a lot less.  
  
**************  
  
The living quarters of the  _palace Kirillovich_  were on the very top floor of the estate, two massive suites reserved for the Lord and Lady, a smaller but no less grand suite for Mikhail who had yet to inherit the full title from his father, and further down a long hallway, additional smaller bedrooms for guests.  
  
James’s spies within the household had assured him that if Rumlow was being held in the palace, he’d be in the last room at the very end of the hall, most likely kept under lock and key. Mikhail might be willing to house a rebel, but he wasn’t about to let one wander free through his personal home.  
  
Three flights of steps taken at a flat sprint had both Samuel and James panting for breath when they reached the top, but at the sound of voices James went from trying to catch his breath to grabbing at Samuel’s arm and muscling him into the closest linen closet, closing the door to nothing more than a crack just in time to avoid two guards doing their rounds.  
  
“Your man didn’t say anything about guards.” Samuel said barely audible and James’s pale eyes flashed in annoyance at the skip in information from his spies. They hadn’t expected guards at all, though in retrospect–  
  
“Mikhail added guards when he saw Natalia here.” James decided, speaking out of the side of his mouth so he could keep one eye on the hallway. “Smart of him to assume if the Black Widow is out in public, it is someone’s night to die.”  
  
The guards turned down the stairs to check the level below, and Samuel pushed at James’s shoulder until they could get out in the corridor again. “If the guy is smart enough to add guards since Talia’s on the prowl, do you think he was nice enough to handcuff Rumlow in a room with no exits so we could just snatch him?”  
  
“I hope there’s at least a window.” James said grimly, and pulled his revolver from the back of his pants. “Think I might throw the bastard out of it.”  
  
A set of double doors opened into a nearly bare chamber with only hints of feminine influence, and James and Samuel gave it only a cursory look through before moving on. It was public knowledge that the Lord Kirillovich’s wife had disappeared nearly twenty years ago, and the family had just enough money and influence to be sure that any questions were stopped at exactly that–  _the Lady Kirillovich had disappeared._  
  
The next set of double doors belonged to the Lord’s chambers, an expansive bedroom and bathroom with a deep bathtub and rows of mirrors. Samuel checked the dressing room and frowned at the lack of clothing, and James mirrored his expression when he saw the bed was undisturbed, the blankets almost musty.  
  
“Do we know if Kirillovich is still alive?” Sam ran his fingers over a layer of dust on the dresser. “Or has he  _disappeared_ just like his lady did all those years ago?”  
  
“Disappointing.” James grunted. “I’d like’ta shake his hand for making sure Ivan was hanged as a traitor. Saved me the trouble of having to kill Natalia’s Da myself.”  
  
“Hm.” Samuel checked to make sure the hall was clear, and waved James out so they could move towards Mikhail’s rooms. “Well, I doubt Talia would have held it against you.”  
  
James smiled a little. “I could save the fuckin’ world and she would find somethin’ to be mad at me about.”  
  
“She loves you, James.” Samuel tried the knob at Mikhail’s door and stayed outside to keep watch while James darted into the room and made quick work of rifling through Mikhail’s desk. “She gets angry with you because she’s worried, cos she just wants her whole family home and safe again.”  
  
James made a non committal noise and Samuel added, “Seems like lately you wouldn’t mind being home either. Did you see Tony tonight?”  
  
“M’not thinkin’ about him.” James’s speech always got rougher when he was flustered, but Sam didn’t comment on it. “There isn’t nothin’ in here bout Rumlow, nothing in here that looks like business at all. Let’s keep moving, then drop down a floor and check his office if we don’t find anythin’ else. Get a move on, I got something else to do tonight too.”  
  
The  _something else_  was Tony. James had sent a last minute note to the hotel detailing the mission for Samuel and Ronin, specific instructions for Pietro, and at the very bottom scrawled:  _mezzanotte_. Midnight.  
  
Tony would have known the message was for him- why else would James have written it in Italian?- and though James had wanted to linger there in his spot behind Pietro and find Tony in the ballroom, he had torn himself away, refused to let himself  _stare_.  
  
Midnight would come soon enough, and James could stare all he wanted then.  
  
First he had a traitor to find.  
  
*****************  
  
“We should dance, darling.” Natalia adjusted the fall of her gown at her feet and stepped closer to Tony, her hands light at his waist. “If I linger too long at the edges of the room there will be whispers that I am not here for the revelry and instead am working as the Widow.”  
  
“I was given very strict instructions to not let you nor Wanda out of my sight.” Tony replied, watching the crowd over Talia’s head. “And I cannot watch you both if I am dancing.”  
  
“An easy fix.” Talia decided. “Wanda my love, come dance with me.”  
  
“Honestly?” Wanda’s eyes went very wide. “But I don’t know how to dance like this, Natalia. I’m afraid I’d step on your feet.”  
  
“Nonsense, I’ll talk you through each step.” Natalia promised. “I’ll lead so you can learn the follow steps and everyone will see us having fun together. This way the next time on of those handsome men ask you to dance, you won’t have to turn them down.”  
  
“Alright then.” Wanda handed her champagne glass to Tony and burst into surprised laughter when Natalia spun her right out onto the floor in a rush of skirts. “Talia! Slow down! I’ll trip!”  
  
“Please don’t.” Natalia laughed back at her. “You’re at least four inches taller than me my love, you’ll squash me flat!”  
  
Tony swiveled in the crowd until he could find Pietro again, the boy lifting his own champagne glass to show he had eyes on the women as well, and Tony relaxed for the first time all night.  
  
This wasn’t normal for him, playing spies and rebels and having a mission.

Tony had practice  _pretending_ , of course he did. That was all he’d done for ages while Tiberius danced with his wife, while Howard and Maria introduced Tony to one after another of beautiful eligible young women, wealthy widows and debutantes sure to inherit fortunes. He had pretended every time Tiberius had come to the house for a business meeting with Howard, and he had pretended every time Maria had sent him careful, curious looks, and  _oh god_  had Tony pretended every time Tiberius left him there alone in bed and went back home to his real life.  
  
But this? Keeping an eye on arguably the most dangerous woman in any given room to be sure that someone else just as dangerous didn’t get too close? Watching Wanda, because noblemen found nothing more intoxicating than the thought of a woman innocent enough to be bent to their ways? Trying to maintain constant, silent contact with Pietro so he would know if anything went wrong with the mission upstairs?  
  
No, this wasn’t  _normal_ for Tony.  
  
Not to mention he was nervous about midnight, anxious to see James but worrying about it as well. With so much time having passed between their last good-bye and tonight, James’s feelings might have cooled or he might wish to take back his words about lying that his heart wasn’t involved .  
  
The rational piece of Tony insisted James wouldn’t have set up a clandestine meeting in the gardens at midnight if he were only going to break things off between them. A man like James was more likely to simply disappear and never say another word than he was to meet somewhere romantic and beautiful simply to let Tony down gently.  
  
But the piece of Tony that had had his heart and soul crushed by Ty’s abrupt cruelty wondered if James would just be another man to–  
  
“You are a brave man.” A deep voice at Tony’s side made him jump. “Coming into public with Natalia Romanova, I mean. The last man to attempt such a feat found himself dead by morning.”  
  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Tony settled himself and turned with a frosty eye towards the unwelcome stranger. “And I’d much prefer if you addressed  _mia moglie_  as the Lady Romanova- Stark, and not by her given name,  _grazie mille_. I do not take kindly to strangers being so familiar with my wife.”  
  
“ _Bozhe moy_ , you really are Italian, aren’t you?” The man raised bushy eyebrows in surprise. “I thought the rumours were exaggerated or perhaps even entirely false.”  
  
“I can assure you, they are not.” Tony said coolly, and said nothing else, turning back to the party to watch Wanda and Natalia and making a show of thoroughly ignoring the stranger.  
  
“ _Menya zovut Mikhail Dyuzhenkov_.” the man spoke up after another moment, obviously unsettled by being brushed off. “His Grace, the Lord Kirillovich.  _Dobro pozhalovat’v moy dom_.”  
  
“The Lord Kirillovich is your father,  _non e coretto_?” Tony didn’t look away from the dance floor. “And I only understand the Russian my love whispers into my ear as we share a pillow, I’d appreciate you speaking a language we both are comfortable with.”  
  
“Of course.” Mikhail narrowed his eyes at the Italian. “I was only welcoming you to my home. And yes, my father is the Lord Kirillovich but in name only these days. He’s fallen far too ill to carry the weight of responsibility afforded those of our station.”  
  
“Ah.” Tony nodded as if he understood. “ _Mio padre_ – my father is the same. Soon I’ll have to take my love home to Italia and resume my residence there.”  
  
“I see.” Mikhail kept watching Tony closely. “And your household name? Perhaps I have heard of your family.”  
  
“I am the Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark,  _nobile dei marchesi di Brescia_.”  
  
“Brescia!” Mikhail feigned surprise. “You know the Beretta family, then.”  
  
“I worked as one of their chief designers.” Tony said carefully, not too keen on letting the man know exactly how many guns he’d designed for the Beretta family, how many of the rifles carried by the Russian armies were stamped with Tony’s own mark. “For several years.”  
  
“I see.” Mikhail said again, and then in far too bland a tone for the implication in his words– “And how does  _sem’ya Beretta_  feel about you bringing the Black Widow across their borders and into their city?”  
  
“I am not familiar with this term, Black Widow.” Tony had been instructed to play ignorant of anything related to the revolution or Natalia’s life before he met her, in truth he’d been instructed to play  _himself_ as he would have been before the soldiers at Kiev had forced Natalia to come clean. “What is that?”  
  
“You cannot mean to pretend ignorance of your wife’s occupation.”  
  
“And  _you_ cannot mean to insinuate a man can share a life with a woman and somehow not know her deepest secrets.” Tony returned. “I’ve done my best to ignore the reports of the Eastern states being uncultured, but I have to say I’m beginning to agree with that particular line of thought. Surely it isn’t proper to spread slander about another man’s wife in his presence, but please.  _Please_ tell me all about who you think my love might be.  
  
“It is not my place and I wouldn’t want to introduce strife into wedded bliss.” Mikhail demurred, irritated that his less than proper questioning had been called upon by the uptight Italian. “But perhaps you ask your love what happened to her first husband?”  
  
“He was older than her and passed away.” Tony stated blandly, repeating the lie Natalia had told him the first time around. “She wore her widow’s black and as soon as her time of mourning had–”  
  
“Oh hello my love!” Natalia burst into their conversation quite unexpectedly, dragging an out of breath Wanda with her. “You must dance with Wanda, she has learned the steps so quickly!” and in a less inviting tone, “Mikhail. What a pleasure. What on earth could you and my dear husband have found to talk about?”  
  
“Did you know your new husband has no idea who the Black Widow is?” Mikhail had to work to get the words out, feeling as foolish and tongue tied as he did every time those wicked green eyes met his own. “Can you  _imagine_ being a citizen of our great land and not knowing the stories of the most dangerous spy to roam our streets? Could it be you have been hiding the more sordid parts of our history from him?”  
  
“ _Amore mia_ , what is he talking about?” Tony frowned down at Natalia. “Have you been keeping secrets from me?”  
  
“Please take Wanda to dance.” Talia said firmly, her smile tremulous and pleading. “My love?  _Per favore_?”  
  
“I do love when you speak Italian to me.” Tony relented, brushing his knuckles over Natalia’s cheek. “But I want a dance with you, Natalia. Everyone in the room should be jealous I have you on my arm.”  
  
“I love you viciously.” Natalia tugged at Tony’s jacket and stood on her toes to give him a kiss, knowing damn well Tony wasn’t fooled by her act and wouldn’t leave her side unless she was in full control of the moment. “Go on now.  _Pospeshi ko mne_.”  
  
Mikahil waited until Tony had taken Wanda back out to the floor and then sneered, “Hurry back to me? I’d think you want your little toy out and distracted for as long as possible. You seem to be keeping so much from him–”  
  
“Mikhail.” Natalia whirled around and clutched at Mikhail’s hand tight. “Mikhail, I need your help.”  
  
“You need my–” Mikhail’s mouth fell open, and with a quick look around to be sure they were being mostly ignored by the other party goers, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “My Lady Romanova, the last time I offered my help you nearly sliced my hand in half, or have you forgotten?”  
  
“I’ve never forgotten a body I’ve put a blade in.” Natalia hissed back. “But  _before_ you were offering stupid prizes in exchange for getting between my legs. Now I need real help and I am willing to do–” Natalia made a concentrated effort to calm her gaze and relax her shoulders. “Mikhail, I am willing to do  _anything_ to ensure the safety of myself and my children.”  
  
“Your  _children?_ ”  
  
“The twins.” Natalia waved her hand towards the floor. “Wanda and her brother Pietro. He didn’t come along tonight, but they are all I have left in this world.”  
  
“Natalia, I have a hard time believing–”  
  
“Mikhail.” she whispered. “I had to sneak out of my own country, hop a train like a peasant and find myself some pretty, rich,  _stupid_ –” she nearly spat the word. “– _stupid_ man to marry me to save my home. I had to bring that man into my life, have to have him in my bed every night and he knows nothing– he knows  _nothing_! I cannot trust him with my secrets, I cannot ask him to spend his money to help me. Until he is called home to take over his father’s seat, I am trapped here and I’ve already had soldiers come to the manor and–”  
  
“This is not like you.” Mikhail peered closer at Natalia. “All the years our paths have crossed and I’ve never seen you beg. You are truly scared, aren’t you?”  
  
“Mikhail, my love.” Natalia’s full lips trembled, and she looked down at the floor for a moment to gather herself. “My brother the Soldier is out of control. You know I have never worked with him, nor have I ever aligned myself with the rebels but with my Da passed and my first husband–” she cleared her throat delicately. “–no longer with us, I have no protection from the consequences of the Soldier’s actions.”  
  
“And you think I can offer you protection?”  
  
“I  _know_ you can.” Natalia squeezed at Mikhail’s hand again. “I don’t need much. A safe place to stay in case my manor home has been compromised. I will move some money around so you won’t have to pay our way. Perhaps you have a little house in the country where I could simply disappear? Only for a little bit.”  
  
“And your husband?” Mikhail nodded towards Tony on the floor, pursing his lips when the Italian laughed out loud at something Wanda said. “How will he feel about you taking up residence in my home?”  
  
“I keep him because he is beautiful and will be very rich one day.” Natalia sounded irritated. “And because so long as I wear the dresses he likes, he doesn’t ask questions. Italian’s are frightfully easy to seduce, it took nothing more than a few drinks and a kiss to convince him to come along with me.”  
  
“You didn’t choose him because of his connection to the Beretta family?” Mikhail challenged, and Natalia was being entirely truthful when she answered, “I did not know that until after we’d wed. In another lifetime I’d take full advantage, but with my brother sending his soldiers to slaughter and bringing the Tsar’s wrath on to me, I am less concerned with if my husband can build me a beautiful gun, and more concerned with whether or not I will live long enough to request one.”  
  
“Assume I believe any of this.” Mikhail stated, and Natalie smiled to herself because she could already tell he was swayed by her story and more than likely, by her show of skin. “How will you show your appreciation?”  
  
“Well I’m sure we could come to some sort of–”  
  
There was no mistaking the sound of  _gunfire_ , not even when it was muted beneath the melody of the musicians and noise of party-goers, and both Natalia and Mikhail froze when they heard it again.  
  
Across the way, Pietro signaled wildly to Ronin, who rotated in his little spot and notched an arrow–  
  
–and sent it into the heart of a guard running down the hall after Samuel and James.  
  
James leapt from the top stair and hit the landing below tucking into a roll, jumped out of it and went tearing down another floor with Samuel hot on his heels. Neither man was stupid enough to try and get into a gun fight with soldiers at their back and innocent people below so it was up to Ronin to take out the three pursuing guards and he did so without hesitating, one body after another falling within a matter of seconds.  
  
The ballroom erupted into  _screams_ when one of the guards stumbled into the railing of a balcony and fell to his death on the marble floor below, and in the pandemonium, James threw an ornate chair through a glass window and dove through the resulting mess. Samuel took only a second to bring his jacket up around his face as he somersaulted through as well, smashing what was left of the window frame.  
  
Ronin sent a grappling hook to adjoining balcony and the crowd screamed all over again at the sight of a man  _soaring_ through the air with a bow held on his back with no apparent destination. Mikhail fully expected a second body to land on his floor, and turned to throw his arms around Natalia to shield her from any…  _splatter_ …but when he reached for the redhead, she was already gone.

The Black Widow and the Winter Soldier had melted back into the night like the ghosts they’d worked so hard to become, leaving nothing but blood and bodies in their wake.  
  
Mikhail ground his teeth together and ordered, “Bring me Rumlow now. If he isn’t dead yet, he’s about to be.”


	19. Chapter 19

Wanda and Pietro made it back to the hotel room first, and per the instructions put in place before the ball, Natalia and Tony arrived almost half an hour later, sweeping up the stairs to their room with smiles and quiet laughter and looking for all the world as if they’d had the time of their life at the party.  
  
Or rather,  _Tony_ was smiling and trying to laugh. Natalia was practically shaking with rage, her face pale and eyes brittle and when Tony unlocked the door to their suite, he warned through gritted teeth–  
  
“Wait until we get through the living area and into the far bedroom before you start yelling, please. We’ve made it this far, do not ruin the evening by making a scene in the hallway.”  
  
Natalia’s lips thinned to an angry line and Tony set his jaw. “Natalia–”  
  
“It irritates me that you feel the need to coach my behavior.” she hissed and Tony retorted, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have spent the carriage ride screaming and cursing in about six different languages over the staggering incompetence of your brother and the men you love!”

“They threw a guard over the balcony and–!” Talia started to shout but Tony shoved open the suite door and gave the furious redhead a sharp swat on the rear to startle her through and into the living room. “Antonio! How dare you!”  
  
“I’m well aware that Samuel and Ronin will cut my hand off for touching you, and if they don’t do it, you just might.” Tony shut and locked the door and tossed the key onto the buffet. “But this is as close to out of control I’ve ever seen you, and if you are going to explode, you’re going to do it where it won’t put us in any more danger,  _do you understand_?”  
  
Natalia opened her mouth as if to reply, then shut it with a click, closing her eyes and clenching her fists and forcing a slow breath through her nose. Tony waited with narrowed eyes until Natalia finally nodded and said, “How far we’ve come, Antonio, that you are the one taking steps to calm me down instead of my having to bring you around to the moment, hm?”  
  
“How far we’ve come.” Tony repeated, still watching Natalia carefully. “Are you alright? I know tonight didn’t go as planned, and the body over the balcony was a surprise to us all, but you’re angry because of something else. What happened? Why are you so upset?”  
  
“I–” Natalia took another one of those slow breaths and blinked a few times. “I’d forgotten how difficult it is to  _pretend_ so much. To stand in a room full of people I hate and act as if I don’t notice the sneers and the stares.” Natalia wet her lips and sighed. “The Lord Kirillovich is the one who was directly responsible for my Da’s hanging. He pushed the conviction through far faster than the courts would usually allow, and there was no more than ninety days between Da being dragged from the house and him swinging in the palace courtyards.”  
  
“I thought you were happy to see your Da out of your life.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I can stomach begging for help from the man who made it happen.” she snapped. “Having to play at  _needing_ him when I’d much rather put my knife in his gut? And having to watch all those men gawking at Wanda,  _bozhe moy_  she is a  _child_ and they are panting after her as if– as if–”  
  
Natalia crossed to the in room bar and poured herself a measure of scotch, stared down at the glass, and took a drink directly from the bottle instead. “And Pietro with a gun in his belt, acting a man when I am still the one to fold his clothing from the wash. They are  _children_ , Antonio. And tonight they saw a man be thrown to his death from the third floor of the palace. They saw Ronin almost die in some half-cocked acrobatic stunt and I have no idea where James and Samuel are–”  
  
She swayed on her feet and Tony leaped forward to catch her when she stumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist and putting his other hand at her forehead. “Talia, you’re warm. Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine.” she muttered. “I just need a drink and to get this blasted corset off. I can’t breathe. Haven’t been able to breathe all night. Help me to the couch, Antonio. Please.”  
  
“Come on, then.” Tony led Natalia to the couch and took the alcohol from her hands to exchange it for a glass of water. Once she was settled, he sat behind her and began working at the fastens of her dress, undoing the tiny buttons one by one until the crisp fabric fell away from her back.  
  
Natalia set her water aside and yanked the feathers from her hair, tossing them away before tugging at the dozen or so pins it had taken to create the ornate styling she’d worn to the ball. Each pin  _plinked_ onto the tableside, the only noise in the room beside the rasp of ribbon as it pulled through the notches on her corset.  
  
“It’s a shame Wanda didn’t get to dance more in her gown.” Natalia finally said after several minutes. “This might be the only chance she has to attend a real ball, and the evening was cut so short. Pietro, as well. He might not have screamed over his new suit like Wanda did when you bought her that dress, but he was just as excited. They’ve had so little in life, it’s too bad that they are afforded even less by being part of our family.”  
  
“Afforded even less, is that what you think?” Tony loosened the next loops of ribbon and Talia breathed in a shaky, relieved sigh when the pressure around her rib cage eased. “You think their lives are worse because Ronin brought them to the manor?”  
  
“No child should be raised in a family where at any given minute, their entire world can come to an end because of the choices made long before they were around.”  
  
Natalia gasped in another breath when Tony got to the bottom of her corset and pushed it open enough that it was no longer binding at her waist. “Oh, I forgot how terrible these are. I haven’t had to wear a corset in years, Ronin and Samuel prefer me to wear nearly nothing beneath my dresses.”  
  
“I’m sure they do.” Tony said dryly, and reached for a blanket to put over Talia’s shoulders since her gown was gapping in the front now. “Wanda and Pietro are lucky to be apart of this family, Talia. Why would you think anything different?”  
  
“They are children.” Natalia insisted “They deserve a softer life than this.”  
  
Tony paused mid step to pour himself a drink. “…What are you trying to say?”  
  
“I was thirteen the first time I saw a man die.” Talia leaned back into the couch and rubbed at her arms as if she were cold. “My Da had a friend over for dinner, and when he stood to get more wine, the friend made a comment towards me that justified my Da shooting him through the forehead.”  
  
Tony recoiled in shock and Natalia’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “That was the day Da learned I had grown up enough to be used for more than smuggling letters in my purse when we traveled. I got my very first corset the next week, and for my fifteenth birthday, I seduced a man at my party and stole his secrets. Many happy returns.”  
  
“Christ.” Tony’s hand shook a little around his drink. “And where was James?”  
  
“Off in the states falling in love with some farm raised soldier with pretty blue eyes.” Natalia snorted. “Mama passed when I was nearly twelve, James left shortly after, and Da decided I needed to carry my weight in the family business.”  
  
Tony swirled the alcohol in the glass a few times before saying, “Talia. Wanda isn’t fifteen, she’s nearly twenty. And Pietro is not James, running off to do battle because he is trying to hide his broken heart in bloodshed.”  
  
“No, Wanda isn’t fifteen.” Natalia agreed. “But those men look at her the way they look at me. And Pietro isn’t James, but he saw his entire village burned down and his friends and family killed. Now he is living with two of the most dangerous men in the Sokovian revolution, both of whom answer to my brother, a man so deadly he is more legendary ghost than flesh and blood man. It’s only a matter of time.”  
  
“Natalia, that isn’t true.”  
  
“It only takes a second.” she continued in a near whisper, gaze wide and unseeing as she stared out the suite window. “It only takes a second to make a girl a woman, to turn a boy into a killer. And more often than not, it is the exact same moment for both. The day Pietro has to see his sister as a woman will be the first day he thinks he can kill someone.”  
  
“ _Natalia_ –”  
  
“That’s how it was for James.” Natalia’s fingernails left crescent marks in her palms. “When he came home from the States, he came to the manor to find me but Da was having a party and I–” she closed her eyes. “– he saw me, the way I was with the men. He broke my lover’s arm in three different places. Snapped his neck without looking away from my Da. Then James left, and I didn’t see him for years. Not for  _years_. It was the end of everything. The end of me hoping James would save me, the end of him seeing me as his little sister, the end of everything I’d hoped would come close to resembling a happy ever after. My fairy tale. It was the end.”  
  
“Wanda and Pietro are not doomed to the same sort of life that you and James were born in to.” Tony said firmly. “You can’t think–”  
  
“I would give anything in the world to save them from it.” Natalia spoke as if she hadn’t heard Tony. “Anything to save us  _all_ from it. I hate being this person, do you know that? I hate it, I hate being the Black Widow, in fact I think I hate being Natalia Romanova. Can you imagine? Hating to be yourself?”  
  
Tony watched Natalia with something awful twisting in his stomach, unsettled by the blankness of her face, almost frightened by the dead-eyed stare that had taken over her usually expressive eyes.  
  
“Natalia, I–”  
  
“I’m boring you.” Just that quickly Natalia switched gears, rising smoothly from the couch with her blanket around her shoulders. “I’m going to take a bath and have a glass of wine. Would you please let me know when Ronin and Samuel arrive? Don’t bother warning me about James, I’m half tempted to throw him out another window for ruining my evening like this. Dropping bodies off balconies, putting my loves in danger, ruining Wanda and Pietro’s first Christmas Ball–”  
  
Natalia’s voice trailed off into mutterings and what Tony had come to recognize as  _curses_ as she went to the bedroom and shut the door, and no sooner had it clicked shut than the door to the other bedroom in the suite opened up and Wanda peeked curious eyes around to peer at Tony.  
  
“Antonio?” Wanda opened the door further from the adjoining room and took a cautious step inside. “Is everything alright? What is wrong with Talia?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong with–” Tony started to deflect but Pietro pushed past his sister to interrupt, “Nothing ruins a beautiful evening like bodies falling from above. Have Ronin and Samuel made it back yet?”  
  
“No, not yet.” Tony handed Pietro his half measure of scotch and topped it off with a little water. “That’s all you’re drinking for now. Natalia will have my head if I give you any more, she’s having a hard time tonight.”  
  
“Pietro wouldn’t help me with my dress.” Wanda held her hair up off her shoulders and motioned for Tony to get to the buttons. “You don’t mind, do you Antonio?”  
  
“Of course not, come here.” Tony motioned for Wanda to sit on the couch where Talia had been just a moment before and he perched behind her, working carefully at the laces that held the back of her gown together. “I’ve undone more dresses tonight than I have in my entire life. My father would be so pleased.”  
  
Pietro sniffed at the drink before taking a tiny sip. “You  mean he’d be happy you are undressing a woman instead of someone like James. You Da doesn’t approve of howyou love? Is that why you left Italy and came with Talia?”  
  
“Not–” Tony waved off the question. “–not entirely. And for tonight, we should leave Talia be. She is– well she’s–” he hesitated. “I don’t really know how she is. But she is very concerned about the two of you.”  
  
“Talia is  _always_ concerned about us.” Wanda pointed out. “I think sometimes she looks at us and only sees the children we were when Ronin brought us home. And hardly children then, we were thirteen! Half to grown!”  
  
“Thirteen is not half to grown.” Tony disagreed, loosening the last of Wanda’s ties and giving her a blanket from the end of the couch. “At thirteen, I was no where near grown. Practically still a  _bambino_.”  
  
“In Sokovia, thirteen is old enough for war. Half grown.” Pietro tossed back the drink in one swallow as if to prove his point, and then spluttered, coughing and clapping a hand over his mouth when it burned clear down his throat. “We are not–” a  _wheeze_. “–children. We saw our village burn to the ground, Talia knows we can handle a few difficult truths.”  
  
“Pietro.” Wanda chided, snuggling back into the blanket with a grateful smile. “ _Bozhe moy_ , how do women wear these dresses every night? I thought I would split a seam if I ate anything!”  
  
“You look beautiful.” Pietro admitted begrudgingly. “I’m used to seeing you with grease in your hair and dirt under your fingernails, I don’t like that so many men thought to dance with you tonight.”  
  
“I  _never_ have grease in my hair!” Wanda fussed and Tony hid a smile at their bickering. “And besides Pietro, Natalia’s choice to not share her thoughts with us is most likely because we have seen such terrible things. Why would she want to worry us even more?”  
  
Pietro only snorted and poured himself another drink, before pouring one for Tony as well and passing it over. “All the same. We are not children anymore. She doesn’t need to hide from us.”  
  
“Pietro, change out of your suit.” Tony warned. “I won’t have you spilling scotch down the front of it like some spoiled nobleman, so if you’re going to keep drinking, get into your night clothes.”  
  
“I’m not spilling–” As if on cue, Pietro choked on a hard swallow of the dark liquid and it nearly came out of his nose. “Ow!”  
  
Wanda laughed out loud and reached to take a cautious sip from Tony’s glass. “Oh no no no, why are you drinking this? That is awful, I think I prefer champagne!”  
  
“I hope you are always a woman that can relax with something sweet instead of needing something bitter to ease your stress.” Tony drained what was left and set the cup aside. “Now then. I’ve unlaced you enough to step out of your gown at least. Go and set it out over the bed so it doesn’t wrinkle and I’ll go out and find some dinner. Pietro under no circumstances are you to bother either your sister or Natalia.”  
  
Neither twin put up an argument, and Tony waited until they’d gone back into the adjoining room before unlocking the door and stepping out into the hallway, re-locking the door as he went. It would take come coin, but he was sure he could bribe the cook into scrounging up a few meals for them, and since the last he’d seen of James and Samuel they were breaking through an ornate window from the second story, Tony set about trying to gather as many medicinal supplies as he could.  
  
It took almost half an hour, and the only food available was a reheated pot of soup and a loaf of crusty bread, but Tony balanced the food and a few rolls of gauze and sewing supplies on top of the tray as he climbed the stairs back to their room.

It would be enough for now.  
  
He knocked on the suite door and waited for Pietro to look through the peep hole and let him in, but when the door swung open to reveal James– exhausted, shirtless,  _bleeding_ – Tony only managed a few surprised blinks.  
  
“…James.”  
  
It had been  _ages_ since Tony had seen James and it wasn’t until that very moment that Tony realized just how much he’d missed the soldier.  
  
“ _James_.” he said again, sounding a little more helpless this time, the worry about Natalia’s behavior and the outcome of the events at the palace falling away in lieu of simply  _staring_ , drinking in the sight of broad shoulders and wide stretches of scarred skin and the curve of James’s mouth as it lifted into a barely there smile.  
  
“I’m sorry for missing the garden,  _kotyonok_.” James said hoarsely, his pale gaze flitting over Tony’s face and then down across his frame as if the soldier were  _starving_. “But I am happy to see you all the same. I’ve missed you.”  
  
“I’m happy to see you too.” Tony whispered back, no use lying when he knew James could see the truth in his eyes and when he was leaning in towards James even with his hands full of food. “ _Mi sei mancato, tesoro_. I’ve missed you.”  
  
The doorway to the hotel suite was not the place to be standing and staring at each other, especially not when James was dripping blood onto the plush carpet, but Tony couldn’t seem to look away, and James didn’t seem to care all that much either, not when they were seeing each other for the first time in months.  
  
How could it have been months when it seemed just like yesterday they were haring last minute, desperate kisses in the stables, Tony half way to begging James not to go, James halfway to deciding to stay? How could it have been  _months_ , too much time and yet no time at all?  
  
 _Because I love him_. Tony realized all in a rush, fully aware that it wasn’t the time nor the place to have such a revelation, and equally aware that it wasn’t so much a revelation as it was an admission of something he’d known for weeks. 

For  _months_.  
  
 _Mio dio, lo amo._  
  
“Tony.” James saw it  _all_ in Tony’s expressionand his mouth parted on a relieved sigh. “Sweet thing, c’mere–”  
  
“Get inside before the entire world knows we are here!” Natalia shouted from inside the room, sounding sharp,  _angrier_ than she’d been before. “Antonio! James! Don’t you think you’ve put us in enough danger tonight?”  
  
James grimaced at Talia’s tone and stepped back from the door to make room for Tony, brushing his good hand down Tony’s back in a gentle sweep and lingering at his hip, surprising himself with just how badly he wanted to hold the pretty brunette.  
  
Or not really surprising, he supposed. Of course he wanted to hold Tony, of course he wanted to get his hands all over that welcoming body and lose himself in those eyes and Tony’s  _mouth_. James needed to forget what had happened tonight, what had happened the last few months. Needed to remember what it felt like to be human again, and he knew he’d find all that and a whole lot more in Tony’s arms.  
  
“You’re hurt?” Tony asked, motioning to the blood at James’s shoulder and James shook his head as if it didn’t matter. He hurt like hell but he had years of practice ignoring pain and he would to ignore it tonight just so Tony would keep looking at him like  _that_.  
  
But then even better– Tony set the tray down and stood on his toes to press a kiss to James’s lips, his fingers feather light against James’s hurt arm, breath catching on the inhale. “I’ve missed you.”  
  
“Missed you too.” James bumped their noses together and squeezed at Tony’s waist with his good hand, closing his eyes and wondering how the hell he’d lived the last few months without getting to see Tony every night.  
  
 _He didn’t want to go back to war._  
  
Tony finally cleared his throat and stepped away, tinging a little red when he realized the entire room must have seen their display, but he didn’t have to worry, no one was looking at them. 

Samuel was sprawled in a chair with a bottle in one hand, his other arm over his eyes as Wanda stitched up a cut on his chest with the needle and thread from her sewing kit and Pietro relocked the windows the men had apparently climbed through. 

In the corner of the room, Natalia and Ronin were arguing quietly, more hand motions than actual words. Natalia looked furious, gesturing wildly and nearly spitting her words but Ronin was entirely unapologetic, maintaining a gentle but firm mantra of “It was  _necessary_ , Talia.”  
  
“Is everyone else alright?” Tony felt guilty for being so distracted by James when there were other injuries. “Samuel? Ronin?”  
  
“They’re fine.” James grunted, ladling soup into a bowl and tearing off a thick hunk of bread. “Ronin’s not hurt at all and Samuel’s worse off than me, went head first through the window, cut up his chest real bad.”  
  
“He will live.” Wanda said with a terse smile, knotting the stitches and breaking the thread. “No thanks to his foolishness. There are better ways to go through a window than using your forehead, Samuel.”  
  
Tony made up a bowl for Pietro and one for Wanda as well and handed it off before turning back to James who was eating standing up, braced against the wall and trying to eat with his bad shoulder, the spoon shaking in his hand.  
  
“What–what–” Tony cleared his throat and stepped closer, clenching his hands so he wouldn’t reach out and touch again. “What happened? What happened to your shoulder?”  
  
“Just bleeding cos it was first through the window when I jumped.” James swore under his breath when he couldn’t hold onto the spoon anymore, his arm too strained to even clutch the utensil. “Old injury before that, nothing important.”  
  
The soldier put the bowl down and ran his fingers through his matted hair, pursing his lips and blowing out a breath that seemed to come from his very soul. “Natalia–”  
  
“Do  _not_ talk to me.” Natalia turned from her conversation with Ronin and swished past James to check the lock on the door, and then to take the bowl right away from him, eating his soup in big bites just to spite him. “I am furious with you.”  
  
“So you’re going to steal my food? We are not children, sister. Calm down–”  
  
Natalia whirled on him, seething, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you  _dare_ try to calm me down! You threw a man over the balcony, James! Ruined my plans, what if Mikhail had grabbed me and I hadn’t escaped? What if Wanda hadn’t been able to get away, or Pietro?”  
  
“Talia, love–” Samuel tried to quiet her and Natalia slashed her hand through the air in a cease motion.  
  
“ _No_. First I have to see my fool brother jump through a window, then Samuel, you nearly take your head off doing the same thing? And then Ronin? Flying through the air like that? What if he had died? What if they both had died! You promised me, James! You  _promised_ –!”  
  
“Enough!” James grabbed at Natalia’s wrist and the tiny redhead swore and  _cursed_ and tried in vain to free her hand. “You listen to me, Natalia, and listen well.”  
  
“I do not have to listen to  _anything_ you–”  
  
“My spies spoke nothing of guards on the top floors!” James raised his voice. “Which can only mean they were added after Mikhail saw you!. He saw the Black Widow come out to play and decided you must be there for Rumlow! Do not be so  _stupid_ to think I willingly walked into a fight unaware! While you were batting your eyes and baring your skin–”  
  
“James.” Samuel said warningly and Ronin took a protective step forward when Natalia’s eyes flashed with hurt. “You do not need to say those things.”  
  
“While you were down there drinking champagne.” James amended, his tone apologetic but no less angry. “Samuel and I fell into six guards.  _Six_. Two in the hall and four in the room where Rumlow was held. We had no choice but to fight our way out and escape and since there were more guards on the floors below us, I decided to avoid the fight and go through the window. You should be pleased the body count isn’t higher instead of screeching at me for blood on the dance floor.”  
  
“Four guards in Rumlow’s room.” Natalia ignored James’s comment about her  _screeching_ and tugged her wrist free. “Why so many? What did Rumlow do when he saw you?”  
  
“He shouted for the guards to help him.” Samuel said flatly, and Pietro’s jaw fell open in a silent echo to Wanda’s gasp of surprise. “If we didn’t know for sure he was a traitor, we know now.”  
  
“Only a traitor would call for guards when his  _komandir_ and oldest friend comes through the door.” James agreed, with a grim sort of smile. “Can’t feel any sort of guilt over wanting to kill the bastard anymore. Friend and ally or not, he has given himself to an enemy of the revolution and he will pay for it with his–”  
  
James hissed in pain when he stumbled over a roll in the carpet and tried to brace himself with his hurt arm, all but collapsing into a chair and closing his eyes. “Shit. This’n might be worse than I thought. Might need a couple stitches.”  
  
“You need a swift slap to the head.” Natalia informed him, and snapped her fingers for Tony to bring her the first aid supplies, apparently done yelling at her brother. Gathering her robe up around her knees, Natalia knelt by James’s chair an poked and prodded at the hurt shoulder, smacking his hand away when he tried to help. “Stop that, let me see where you are hurt.”  
  
She muttered something in Sokovian that was decidedly  _not_ complimentary, and James smiled a little bit before turning his ice blue eyes towards Tony and tipping his chin up in an obvious invitation.  
  
Tony stayed where he was though, knowing full well if he moved towards James it would be only to throw himself in the soldier’s arms and now was  _not_ the time. So Tony reined in his self control and stood with arms folded to his chest as he watched Natalia suture the cut in James’s shoulder with neat stitches and when Ronin came to get some dinner, he clapped Tony on the back with a muttered, “Thank you for taking care of Talia and the children tonight.”  
  
Tony nodded, but didn’t look away from James and Natalia, furrowing his brow when Natalia clicked her tongue and  _tsk_ ed, “You never got it properly treated, did you? All this time and it still hurts?”  
  
“And when do you suggest I get it properly treated?” James asked dryly, motioning for Samuel to hand him a bottle of whatever was in the cupboard, turning down a glass with a quick shake of his head. “Was it when your Da locked me in my rooms for a week, or when Ma got sick, or when I finally ran away to jump ship to the America’s? When should I have gotten it treated?”  
  
“What happened? What did Talia’s Da do?” Never one to let the opportunity to be  _nosy_ pass, Pietro flopped onto the couch next to Ronin and dug into his soup. “I didn’t know there was something wrong with James’s shoulder.”  
  
“That is because you know next to nothing.” Wanda sniffed, dropping a quick kiss on Samuel’s forehead as she passed to eat her own food. “Of course you don’t know what happened to James.”  
  
“It was my Da.” Natalia cleaned another cut and re-threaded her needle. “When our Mama was still alive, he would get drunk and terrible and one day he raised his voice to Mama, raised his hand as well. James jumped in between them and my Da threw him down the stairs, almost tore his shoulder apart.”  
  
James scoffed and Natalia slipped a neat stitch into the wound. “James couldn’t use his arm for weeks, but the next time Da thought to mistreat our Mama, James stepped up again and nearly broke Da’s jaw. One punch. Almost killed him.”  
  
Pietro’s spoon clinked to the bowl as he stared at James in awe. “One punch?”  
  
“Do not look so impressed, darling.” Natalia trimmed another stitch. “It was a terrible day in our home. A respectable man would never put his son in a position to have to defend his Ma, and a respectable man would never punish his son for the same thing. Our Da was a bully and a coward and I’m afraid my brother and I have paid the price many times over.”  
  
“He was not my father.” James tensed and took a long drink from the bottle when Natasha wiped the superficial cuts with alcohol. “But I would do it again all the same.”  
  
Natalia didn’t answer, and Tony’s stomach clenched uncomfortably with the reminder of their earlier conversation, when Natalia had been so angry about Wanda and Pietro growing up in a family like theirs, when she’d talked about her Da and how furious James had been.  
  
He didn’t look furious right now though, James didn’t look furious at all. Slumped in the chair bare chested and wild haired, gulping at the vodka as if it were water and letting the drops spill from his lips, eyes trained solely on Tony and blood still drying on his skin, James looked tired and he looked hungry and he looked–he looked–  
  
Tony looked away before he blurted out something stupid about James being  _beautiful_.  
  
Ronin was sitting silently with his arm round Wanda’s waist, holding the girl protectively as if he could erase the way the men had stared tonight. Pietro was pressed into Samuel even if he didn’t realize it, still young enough to seek comfort from someone he loved like a father. Natalia was washing blood off her hands and James was hurt more than any of them, and all Tony could think about was how disappointed he was to have missed their moment in the garden.  
  
 _Selfish. Stupid. How could he think about James’s hands on his body when James was too hurt to even hold a spoon to eat?_  
  
“In the morning we will make a plan.” Natalia said then, decisive and in no mood to hear any sort of argument. “Wanda and Pietro, to bed please. Wanda you will sleep in bed with me, Pietro on the floor in our room. My loves–”  
  
“We will secure the windows and doors and sleep here in the living room with James.” Samuel was signing quickly to Ronin, who had his good ear turned to the couch cushions. “Tony, take the extra room and be sure to bar the doors. We will be as safe as we can be for the night.”  
  
“I love you.” Natalia whispered, bending to kiss first Samuel and then lingering over a slow kiss with Ronin, drawing her fingers through his hair and murmuring something sweet into his ear. “Come along, children.”  
  
“Natalia, we are not–” Pietro started to protest but Tony cut in– “ _Pietro_.” and the boy shut his mouth with an audible click.  
  
For tonight, for the sake of keeping the peace and for Natalia’s sanity, he would not argue being called a child.  
  
As soon as the door closed behind Natalia and the twins, Tony went to work helping Ronin and Samuel secure the living room and side bedroom, moving the heaviest furniture in front of the doors, shoving the wardrobe in front of the window by the bed so no one– not even a bullet– could get through.  
  
Natalia’s bedroom window had been boarded shut the moment they arrived in the city, and their door was locked from the inside as well, and after the rest of the soup and bread was gone and James had made it through most of the bottle of vodka, Samuel said,  
  
“Tony, get some sleep. James and Ronin and I need to plan for–”  
  
“You and Ronin take the other room.” James interrupted, the come down from adrenaline and alcohol in his system making the words slur. “Sleep. The planning can wait for morning.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“Go on.” James struggled to his feet only to make it the few feet to the couch and collapse into a sprawl. “ _Now_. Leave me and Tony for the night.”  
  
Ronin met Tony’s eyes in a silent question, and when Tony nodded, Ronin shrugged and took Samuel’s hand to lead him to the other room. They never wanted to spend a night away from Natalia, but the chance to simply hold each other in the quiet didn’t come along very often either, and neither of the soldiers were going to argue.  
  
The door closed, the lock engaging, and Tony’s mouth went dry when James held out a hand and coaxed, “Come here, sweet thing.”  
  
“You’re hurt.” Tony undid the knot at his neckerchief and tossed the frilly material away, working at the buttons of his crisp dress shirt. “Exhausted.” he stepped out of his shoes and opened the clasp of his trousers. “You should sleep.”  
  
“Come here.” James said again, too tired to try for the pretty words he’d thought to whisper to Tony in the garden, too drunk to tease like they usually did, to twist the moment until Tony’s eyes sparked in  _challenge_. He couldn’t help saying what he was thinking, his body aching with pain and his heart too bruised from the betrayal of his oldest friend to hide how vulnerable he was.  
  
So he held out his hand and curled his fingers hopefully and didn’t let himself feel embarrassed for begging. “ _Please_.”  
  
Tony lifted his shirt free from his pants and opened the last of the buttons so it was loose around his shoulders, then sat carefully on the edge of the couch and wove their fingers together.  
  
“Missed you.” James leveraged himself up on one arm and pressed liquor soft lips to Tony’s,inhaling sharply when Tony kissed him right back, squeezing at his hand and inching closer. “M’sorry we didn’t get to the garden but believe me, it was all I could think about the last few days.”  
  
“I know.” Tony flattened his palm over James’s heartbeat and leaned in to chase the kiss, drawing it out until James flinched away from the pressure on his arm. “Oh oh I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to hurt you–”  
  
“Don’t stop.” James fell back into the couch and brought Tony down with him, groaning half in pain, half in relief when Tony rubbed against him. “Tony,  _dorogoy_ , come here.  _Please_ come here.”   
  
“Your arm–”  
  
“I don’t care.” James eased onto his side so there was room for Tony as well, hooking his hurt arm around Tony’s waist and bringing their mouths together again and again. He slid his tongue along the seam of Tony’s lips and when Tony opened on a low moan, James pressed tighter to lick through Tony’s warmth, gasping like he was  _drowning_ when Tony bit at his lip teasingly, nothing more than a sting of teeth before he soothed the hurt with a sweet kiss.  
  
“I missed you.” Tony mumbled through another kiss, clutching at James side and trying in vain to get even closer, gathering his courage and steeling himself to whisper, “James,  _tesoro_. I was lying, do you understand? I was lying and I was going to tell you in the garden but I don’t know when I’ll see you again so I’ll tell you right now. I was  _lying_.”  
  
James leaned away far enough to see into Tony’s eyes, searching the dark brown for truth, for  _certainty_ that Tony was saying what James thought he was saying.  
  
“I’m—” Tony took in a deep breath and prayed James hadn’t drank too much to misunderstand him. “I’m lying about my heart not being involved. Are you?”  
  
“Yes.” James rolled them from the couch and onto the floor, catching Tony’s weight with his good arm so he didn’t hit his head, bracing himself gingerly on his injured shoulder. “ _Yes_ , sweetheart, I am lying. Lying, for ages now.”  
  
“Thank god.” Tony laughed breathlessly and this time their kiss was messy, anxious and greedy and packed with longing and all the things they both knew to be true but couldn’t say quite yet. “I thought–” a dirty kiss, full of teeth and tongue and a groan Tony didn’t quite manage to muffle. “–I thought– three months. It’s so long. I missed you but I thought you regretted writing me–”  
  
“You thought I’d bring you to the gardens, to the gazebo only to tell you I’d changed my mind?” James mouthed hungry kisses along Tony’s jaw, back to the sensitive skin at his ear, down his neck. “No no no, darling.  _No_.”  
  
Tony arched up beneath him for another kiss, aching to his  _soul_ over the tender way James called him darling, desperate for more and more, another and another and  _another_ because no one had  _ever_ looked at him the way James was looking at him right now. 

“ _Ho un debole per ti_.” he whispered. “I am weak for you, James.”  
  
“And the blood on my hands?” James asked, flinching away from even the softest of touches along his hurt arm. “What about that?”  
  
Tony closed his eyes and pursed his lips for a kiss James was all too happy to give, their bodies moving together in an idle shadow of what they  _really_ wanted to be doing, far too many clothes separating skin, and their mouths falling open in desperate pants and quiet moans for a long time before Tony managed to answer, “I don’t see it. I only see you.”  
  
“My love.” James breathed into Tony’s ear and Tony  _melted_ beneath him, pliant and sweet and beautiful, trusting James even though neither of them had any reason to trust anyone at all. “My love, I am too hurt to show you how I have missed you but stay with me tonight anyway. Right here with me.  _Stay_.”  
  
***************  
It wasn’t until after Tony was pillowed asleep on James’s chest, welcome and heavy and gorgeous lost in a sleepy dream, that James realized what he’d said.  
  
 _My love._  
  
No wonder Tony had gone so quiet for a moment, why he’d looked almost stunned when he’d agreed to stay the night, why he’d quietly asked, “Again?” and James had said it again without even thinking.  
  
 _My love._  
  
James was a man afraid of very few things, but loving after losing Stevie hadn’t only felt impossible, it had been outright terrifying. Baring his heart again, his feelings, opening himself to rejection, to hurt, to loss?  _Terrifying_.  
  
How comforting to know it wasn’t terrifying at all.  
  
How comforting to know falling in love was as easy as seeing Tony’s smile as they kissed good night.  
  
*****************  
*****************  
  
The next morning Natalia sat between Samuel and Ronin on the couch, sipping her tea and staying almost suspiciously quiet as the men worked through their next several movements, plans drawn up and discussed in relation to Rumlow, to Mikhail, and the rebel soldiers themselves.  
  
Brock turning tail and switching sides could spell the end of the revolution, or it could be the motivation they needed to turn the tide of the war in their favor. Every move James and his army made would have to be calculated, secretive and carried out to precision or everything would fall apart and all would be lost.  
  
“I need you.” James said bluntly, his good arm hooked around Tony’s waist so Tony wouldn’t leave his lap. “Samuel, Ronin. I need you both at my side. No question.”  
  
“No!” Natalia burst out, her first words all morning. “No, James. You cannot have them. You promised–”  
  
“I know what I promised, but I need you to not be a woman in love right now.” James lowered his voice, his hand tightening at Tony’s side. “Natalia I need you to be the Black Widow right now, I need you to listen and to see that I cannot do this without my best soldiers.”  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
“Talia–” Ronin smoothed Natalia’s hair back from her face and kissed her temple. “My love, it’s alright.”  
  
“It is not alright.” Natalia insisted, and Wanda looked up from her tea with a worried expression. “James, you  _promised_ me.”  
  
“I know what I promised.” James repeated. “And I don’t want to leave you alone at the manor house, but Tony will be there and so will the twins.”  
  
“We can take care of Natalia.” Pietro said bravely and James gave him a short, approving nod. “The manor will be plenty safe with all of us there.”  
  
“I said  _no_!” Natalia jumped to her feet, wrenching out of Samuel’s reach and whirling on James. “You will  _not_ take more of my family into this fight! Having you gone all the time is bad enough, but you will not take the men I love as well!”  
  
“Natalia!” James shouted and Natalia froze in place. “Your Da was a bastard and a menace but I know he taught you to be smarter than you are being right now. Stop fighting me and just think about it!  _Think_!”  
  
Natalia clenched her jaw and folded her arm, shoulders set straight and furious and green eyes snapping–  
  
– but just as Wanda was ready to run to her and try to calm her down, Natalia relented, pushing her hair back and retightening her robe, returning to the couch.  
  
“With Brock hiding away with Mikhail, you only have Garbiel.” she said woodenly. “At the very least you need Ronin and Samuel to deliver messages because they are the only ones you can trust. At  _most_ , you need them at your side for battle because the only person you’ve fought next to more is currently selling your secrets to our enemy.”  
  
“That’s right.” James relaxed again, his hold on Tony loosening though he didn’t let go. “If I have messages to you I’ll send it Ronin or Samuel so you can see them, if we will be within a days travel, I’ll arrange for them to sneak away to check on you. I know what I promised, Talia. But there are bigger things at stake than what you and I want.”  
  
“I know.” Natalia seemed to wilt into the cushions, her anger there and gone so quickly it was nearly unsettling. “There is always something bigger at stake than what we want, hm?”  
  
James put his forehead into Tony’s shoulder and whispered a curse under his breath. “Sister, I am  _sorry_. I am.”  
  
“I’m sure you are. Come with me and help me pack.” Natalia stood to her feet and pulled Samuel and Ronin up as well. “I missed you last night, and if you have to leave with James, I want time together first. Come on.”  
  
Pietro tugged at Wanda and jerked his head towards the other room. “Come on sister, I’ll help you put your dress away.”  
  
Eventually it was just James and Tony left sharing the over sized chair and James exhaled noisily before saying, “Sweet thing, you’ve been very quiet this morning.”  
  
“If I’m being honest, I was just enjoying being held.” Tony said quietly, and James cupped Tony’s jaw and turned him for a long kiss. “Something is going on with Talia.”  
  
“I know.” James kissed him again, leaning back into the chair and pulling Tony closer to his chest. “Usually I’d say she is being dramatic, maybe hysterical, but my sister has never been hysterical a day in her life. I think Natalia has been so long outside of this life she’s forgotten all it can take from us.”  
  
“And we’ve been safe at home for a while.” Tony finished, tucking his nose into James’s neck and quietly loving the freedom to do so, loving the way James’s fingers tangled into his hair to keep him close, James’s hurt arm resting lightly but no less possessively at his waist. “It’s easy to forget there is a war happening when all we do every morning is have our coffee and do the chores.”  
  
“This is not the life you expected when you came to Sokovia.” James decided and Tony smiled a little. “You are regretting it?”  
  
“Not right now.” Tony admitted, closing his eyes when James pressed a kiss to his hair. “Not for months now.”  
  
“When this is over.” James hesitated, weighing his words. “When all this is over, we will talk.  _Really_ talk.”  
  
“It’s not needed. You said enough last night.“ Tony pressed tighter. "You were lying and I was lying– that’s enough, James. It’s enough.”  
  
“It’s not.” James swallowed hard and tugged gently at the dark strands. “Seems to me you’ve never heard the sorta things you  _want_ to hear from some one you– from someone who has your heart. Your man in Italy never said them, and I haven’t said them yet. I mean to fix that.”  
  
 _I love you._ Tony thought, but he only leaned in for a long kiss that went on and on and  _on_ , neither willing to be the one to break apart first, because who knew when they’d have another chance.

“Tony.” When they pulled away to breathe, James pushed their foreheads together and whispered, “Promise me if things go badly, you will take Natalia and the twins somewhere safe.”  
  
“I promise.” Tony whispered back.  
  
“I’m sending Ronin and Samuel back to the manor for a week.” James continued. “When I come to fetch them, promise me you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”  
  
Tony smiled, hearing the unspoken  _plea_ in James’s voice and budging close for another kiss. “… I promise.”


	20. Chapter 20

Natalia cried the day James came to fetch Samuel and Ronin.  
  
Wanda didn’t cry, she didn’t tear up at all. The girl simply put together food for the packs– freshly baked bread and a mix of nuts, dried fruit, carefully wrapped pieces of dark chocolate, salted meat cut into strips– and helped Pietro roll up extra blankets to tie to the horse’s back for added protection against the winter winds.  
  
Wanda spent a few days patching up Ronin’s warmest shirt and she added to the lining of Samuel’s coat as well. Pietro sat at her feet and cut squares of thick cloth to add to the heels and toes of socks, and even though he stabbed his finger at least six different times, the boy still tried to help mending cuffs and reinforcing hems.  
  
Samuel walked Pietro through the house to point out for the hundredth time where all the weapons were hidden, all the secret doors. They walked the tunnel that led out beneath the falconers lodge until Pietro had the steps memorized, and then Samuel pulled his favorite pistol from his holster and gave it to Pietro, admonishing, “It’s up to  _you_ , son. Tony’s here too, but I’m counting on  _you_ to protect Talia and your sister, do you understand? You want to be a soldier, it starts with protecting your family.”  
  
“I understand.” Pietro said solemnly, and on the other side of the kitchen, Wanda hid her face in Ronin’s shoulder, mumbling things the archer couldn’t hear but understood all the same–words weren’t needed when the girl was shaking in his arms, shivering even though they stood close to the fire.  
  
But despite having to say goodbye to the men that had acted as  _Da_ to both twins for so many years, despite knowing that this very well might be the very last time they ever saw each other, neither Wanda nor Pietro cried.  
  
Natalia cried though, wrapped in her robe and her shawl and standing in the kitchen window, staring out across the yard, her eyes wide and face pale and lips startlingly red behind the tears that dripped down to her chin and onto her dress.

Tony didn’t cry but his emotions were drawn tight,  _brittle_ , close to snapping all the same. James had come to the manor in the middle of the night, snuck in through the kitchen and up the stairs to his room and had stopped still when he saw Tony curled into his bed, reading by lamplight.  
  
“You’re here.” James had whispered and Tony– Tony had wanted to say a thousand different things, but instead he had shrugged and whispered back, “I promised.”  
  
James’s arm was still hurt, but not so hurt that he couldn’t brace himself on the bed and pin Tony to the mattress. Their kisses had been needy,  _starved_ and when Tony had cried out for James, when he let his thighs fall open to make room, the soldier had whispered, “ _Na ital’yanskom_ , my love.”  _In Italian_ and Tony had surged up to whisper into James’s ear, sweet phrases and pleas for  _more always more_  on his tongue until James fell into him and they crashed over the edge together.  
  
And Tony was  _brittle_ this morning, quiet and withdrawn and scared of all the  _everything_ that was racing through his mind and his heart– how could he ever have thought his heart wasn’t involved? What he had felt for Tiberius was nothing like this, nothing like this, he was  _drowning_ –  
  
Tony was brittle but he didn’t cry, not when James pulled him close and kissed him yet again, not when the soldier brushed calloused fingers over his cheek and murmured, “I have to leave very soon.”  
  
“I’m not going to ask you to stay.” Tony turned his head to catch another kiss and James pushed their foreheads together for a long minute. “So don’t expect me to.”  
  
“I don’t expect you to ask me to stay.” James closed his eyes when Tony pressed lightly at his hurt shoulder. “But you’ll be waiting for me if I come home, yes?”  
  
It was as close as they would come to saying  _I love you_ , asking if the other would stay, if they would be waiting, whispering that they were weak for each other, begging for sweet words in each other’s native tongue because James loved the melody of Italian and Tony loved the growl beneath Sokovian letters.  _My love, darling, kitten_ – they were gentle names that had to mean everything because neither James nor Tony would say anything else. Not to each other, not to themselves–  
  
“If you come home, I’ll be waiting.” Tony promised again. “And if you don’t come home, I’ll take Talia and the twins somewhere safe.”  
  
“Thank you.” James stayed close for another minute, his palm warm at the back of Tony’s neck, his other arm secure at Tony’s waist and then all in a rush, swallowing back the fear that threatened to  _choke_ him, pushing past the  _uncertainty_ that came with opening his heart–  
  
“You make me want to leave the war behind.” he breathed into Tony’s lips. “I’ve lost myself in bloodshed for decades but you make me want to come home. With you I am  _warm_ , like the winter has left my soul and I–” James shuddered when Tony’s fingers tightened at his side. “I’d cross a thousand mountains for you,  _dorogaya_. I’d cross a thousand lands, if that what it takes to come home to you again.”  
  
Tony stood on his toes and crushed their mouths together, tangling his fingers in James’s long hair and yanking him down to hold him tight, not letting up until James was gasping for breath and Tony was nearly dizzy, and it was Samuel who had to clear his throat and quietly remind James that they had to  _go_.  
  
And Tony didn’t cry, even though James’s words were the purest love confession he had ever imagined,  _poetry_ because the words were heartfelt,  _beautiful_ because Tony knew James had been in love before just like  _he_ had been in love before, but  _neither of them had ever been in love like this_  , nearly a prayer because Tony knew the chances of James coming home again were so so  _small_.  
  
He didn’t cry. He was strong enough to hold Wanda when her knees gave out as Ronin blew her a kiss, strong enough to grab onto Pietro’s hand when the boy wavered when Samuel clapped him on the back.  
  
But Natalia cried.  
  
Natalia cried through Samuel and Ronin’s quiet goodbyes, and she cried when James hugged her tight and promised to send word as often as he could.  
  
And as the three soldiers rode down the lane and past the gate and disappeared in to the distance, Natalia stood on the top step of the manor entrance and  _cried_ until the sun started to set and the night wind blew cold around her shoulders.  
  
“Natalia.” Tony came to find her, bringing along an extra blanket. “Natalia, love come inside. You’ll catch your death of cold out here.”  
  
Natalia didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch and Tony settled the blanket over her arms, rubbing at her cold hands. “Come on. Pietro fell asleep in Wanda’s room so they are already settled for the night. I have some tea in the kitchen and need to lock the house up. Please come with me.”  
  
“Did you say your good-byes?” Natalia let Tony lead her into the house again, watching him bar the door with a listless expression. “This will be the last time you see James, or at least the James you know. Every time a man goes to war, he comes home someone different and you will have to learn to love him all over again. Did you say goodbye?“  
  
“Talia.” Tony handed her a cup of hot tea and sighed. “They will be fine. Ronin and Samuel are elite soldiers and James even more so. They are  _fine_.”   
  
“They are not elite soldiers, they are elite  _killers_.” Natalia took a tiny sip of the drink. “There is a difference and there is a  _line_ , and my loves crossed it the day they came to Sokovia. My brother was born on the other side of that line and no matter how I have hoped he would come back to me, no matter how I’ve enjoyed watching the two of you fall in love–”  
  
She raised an eyebrow when Tony smiled. “Ah, so you can’t be bothered to deny it anymore. It is in fact,  _love_.”  
  
“I can’t be bothered to deny it anymore.” Tony allowed. “And if James comes home, perhaps I’ll have something more to say on the matter.”  
  
“Perhaps.” Natalia’s laugh was mocking. “ _Perhaps_? Antonio, a soldier  _always_ comes home. Whether it’s under his own power or helped along the road because he’s missing a limb, or in a body bag. They  _always_ come home, whether they are carrying the ghost of war on their shoulders, or they are the ghost hanging around others. A soldier  _always_ comes home, and when they do, we have to say all the things we should have said before. I’ll have to say it to my loves, and you’ll have to say it to James. You’ll have to tell him you love him, that you’re sorry you wasted time, that you never want to be apart again.”  
  
Natalia met Tony’s gaze with flat green eyes. “The question isn’t whether or not our men will come home, it’s whether or not they will be alive to hear the things we say when their bodies come back.”  
  
They were quiet in the kitchen for a long time as Natalia finished her tea and just as Tony was going to reach for her hand to walk her upstairs, the woman said, “Today is a goodbye I’d fooled myself into thinking would never happen. When James told me years ago that Ronin and Samuel could stay with me, I thought my life was secure. My first husband passed shortly after, my Da was executed later and with James away at his war, I thought my life was finally  _finally_ secure.”  
  
“And then I had to go to Italy to fix a story my Da had spun for years that was suddenly going to be my ruin and when I brought you home, James came home too and–” she smiled, and it was  _awful_. “–Antonio, I honestly fooled myself into thinking that everything awful in my life was finally over. It wasn’t until Kiev, when James asked me for help, that I realized that I’d have to say goodbye again.”  
  
“I’m done crying.” Natalia gave Tony another one of those heart breakingly  _awful_ smiles. “I’m done. I said goodbye to my brother, to the men I love, and I’m done. I’m not going to do it again.”  
  
“Talia–”  
  
“I’m not going to do it again.” She repeated. “I’ve cried all my tears and I’ve said all my goodbyes. I’m  _done_. When the letter comes that our men have died, that they were captured and they were executed, I want you to take me away from here. When Sokovia takes  _everything_ from me, will you take myself and the twins away?”  
  
“…of course.” Tony whispered. “Natalia, you are my family. I’ll take care of you, of the twins. But Ronin and Samuel are going to be just fine, you’ll see. They will be home again soon.”  
  
“Hm.” Natalia wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and headed for the stairs alone, disappearing into the shadows above. “Good night, Antonio. Sweet dreams.”  
  
Tony looked around the empty kitchen, and then out towards the empty road.  
  
“….sweet dreams.”  
  
****************  
 **January**  
  
 _All is well on the front, and we are doing fine. Plenty of blankets and warm socks, give our thanks to the twins. Spirits are high now that we are all together again, and every step forward has been a victory. Give our love to the children and to Tony. Will send more word when we can. We miss you._  
  
James had done nothing but  _fight_ for nearly fifteen years now. First in the schoolyard defending his family’s reputation, then in the States where he’d met and lost Steve, and now almost a decade in Sokovia. His three or four months home at the manor falling in love with Tony had been the longest reprieve the soldier had even known, and then James had stepped back into the fight as if he’d never been gone at all.  
  
It was harder for Samuel and Ronin. They had been only boys when the war broke out in the States, boys with foolish ideals about battle and heroes and  _glory_.

Samuel had fought so his Ma never had to feel the sting of the whip on her back again, Ronin had fought because he had nothing else to do and because Samuel’s smile made him feel a certain way. Paired up with a larger than life blond named Steve and a hulking Russian with ice blue eyes, Samuel and Ronin fought their way through the Southern states with a deadly sort of accuracy that spawned stories and legends and whispers of  _ghosts_ around late night camp fires.  
  
They wouldn’t go down in the official history books, not a former slave and a trick shot with a questionable history, nor a big farm boy and a mysterious foreigner, but bonds formed in war were unbreakable, so after Stevie had… after Stevie had  _passed_ , Ronin and Samuel came across the sea to fight James’s war as well.  
  
And Ronin would never admit it out loud, and certainly not when Talia or the twins could hear, but he had missed the feel of his bow in his hands, the weight of a bolt, the smooth slide of a perfectly notched arrow. It was like coming home, like finding a forgotten friend, like rediscovering something he didn’t know he was missing and now Ronin never missed, he never faltered, each pull and release as perfect as the one before, over and over and  _over_.  
  
Ronin’s first run in with the Tsar’s men ended with blood staining the snow, arrows embedded in chests, and when he jumped down from the tree and put his bow away, James stared at him with a gratified sort of  _awe_ because for the first time in months, all of the rebel soldiers were still standing post battle.  
  
Samuel stared with something  _else_ entirely in his dark eyes and that night was the first night in a long time Samuel and Ronin stumbled away into the darkness and spread a blanket on the ground, letting the battle lust and bloody satisfaction of the  _fight_ seep from under their skin and turn their touches hurried and kisses sharp.  
  
They were friends and they were lovers, they were soldiers and they were killers, and they missed Natalia and the twins with every beat of their heart but here in the wilds, in the woods, in the war–  
  
“I forgot you were like this.” Samuel gasped into Ronin’s mouth, rocking into his body and groaning when Ronin tightened around him. “I love you when you’re soft with Talia, when we are home but  _this_ is how I fell for you.”  
  
It was dark and Ronin couldn’t read his lips, so Samuel whispered into Ronin’s good ear over and over– “I love you, I love you, I love–”  
  
When they finally came back to the makeshift camp that had served as headquarters for the mission, James was packing the last of his things onto Zima and sent them both a crooked grin. “Thought I lost you out there. Jesus, Ronin, run into a wild animal? That looks painful.”  
  
 _No_. Ronin signed, hitching up his collar to hide the bruises on his neck, love bites courtesy of Samuel’s teeth and tongue.  _Do not make fun. I am happy._  
  
James rolled his eyes and made a crude motion and Samuel burst out laughing, dragging Ronin in close for a long kiss and muttering, “I’ve missed this with you, love.”  
  
“This is good.” James said when they parted again, tightening the strap on Zima and patting the war stallion on the flanks. “The three of us fighting together again. This will be over by spring and we can finally go home without worrying anymore.”  
  
 _Need more arrows_. Ronin signed. _Left too many in bodies_.  
  
“Why are you signing so much?” James asked with a grin so close to snarky that he nearly looked like  _Bucky_ again. “What, your words don’t work after Sam gives ya a good fuc–”  
  
“That’s enough.” Samuel cut in and this time Ronin laughed. “Let’s pack up and get the hell out of here.”  
  
***********  
  
“Natalia, don’t stand here! It’s freezing!” Wanda plucked at Natalia’s sleeve and tugged her back inside out of the cold. “What are you staring at?”  
  
“I’m watching Pietro and Antonio do the chores.” Natalia pulled away from Wanda and went right to the window so she could still see the men as they carried over firewood from the shed. “Has the bread risen yet?”  
  
“I already put it to bake.” Wanda assured her. “But why are you watching them, Pietro has been doing these chores for years and Antonio worked alongside Samuel and Ronin and James for months. They know what they are doing.”  
  
“I know they do.” Natalia didn’t look away and Wanda sighed out loud. “You don’t have to stand here with me, darling. I know you wanted to try something new for dinner tonight. Get started and I’ll come help you in a few minutes.”  
  
“You mean you’ll come help me once Antonio and my brother are inside and locked behind this door again.” Wanda corrected and when Natalia’s shoulders slumped, the pretty girl  _tsk_ ed quietly. “Talia, nothing is going to happen while they are stacking firewood. Stop worrying.”  
  
“When you lose your innocence, your brother, and the men you love to a pointless war and are left at home with children and a man you dragged into this mess with lies,  _then_ you can tell me not to worry.” Natalia retorted. “Until that day, let me do as I please.”  
  
“Well, I’ve lost my innocence, my parents, my home, and my  _village_ to this war.” Wanda pointed out, without a hint of heat in the words. “Don’t you think that’s enough? Or must I lose more before my opinion matters for anything other than dessert and tea?”  
  
“…Wanda.” Natalia closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Love, I’m so sorry. Of course your opinion–”  
  
“Stop.” Wanda bussed a kiss to Natalia’s cheek and linked their fingers, dragging her to the parlor. “Come now, I’ve made that sweet pastry you like so much, and the bread for dinner is already baking. Please come and sit for a while with me. I will read to you while you embroider something beautiful.”  
  
“Has there been any more word from the men?” Natalia picked up her sewing basket and picked through the pieces until she found the lace collar she was making for one of Wanda’s gowns. “Another letter? James promised to send word as often as he could.”  
  
“It has only been a week since the last one.” Wanda reminded her. “I know James told you he’d send Ronin or Samuel with the letters if he could but I cannot imagine they will get the chance so soon, hm?”  
  
“Of course not, I know that.” Talia’s lips thinned in disapproval. “But I had hoped all the same.”  
  
Wanda opened her book to the current page and retrieved her bookmark. “I miss them too, Natalia. We all do. Pietro has slept on my couch every night because he does not want to sleep alone. We’ve said goodbye to parents already, telling Ronin and Samuel goodbye nearly broke my brother. He is mouthy and impetuous and the  _worst_ , but he knows this goodbye might have been the last and he is hurting. I imagine Antonio is too. You are not the only one.”  
  
“You’re telling me I am hurting our family by grieving?”  
  
“I’m telling you that you are acting as if we’ve already lost them.” Wanda corrected gently. “You are acting as if the world has turned it’s back on you and you are alone, but we are still here and there is still a life to lead together.”  
  
Natalia spread the lace out over her lap and stared at the intricate pattern for a moment. “I told Antonio that I was done crying, that I was done saying goodbye and I meant it.” her lips lifted in a small smile. “But you are correct, we are still here and there is still a life to lead. I am sorry, darling. I’ll try to be better.”  
  
“We love you very much, Talia.” Wanda reminded her and this time Talia’s smile was a little bigger.  
  
“I think these days you are more my sister than my daughter, Wanda.”  
  
“Yes well.” Wanda winked and cleared her throat to start reading. “You had to let me grow up sometime.”  
  
*************  
*************  
  
 **February**  
  
 _All is well. Your men send their love to you and the twins and please give mine to Tony. We are cold but well fed, and moving quickly. Stay safe and stay warm, I will send additional information if I can, but know that we are not in any immediate danger. We miss you all._  
  
It was  _cold_ , the sort of cold that cut through clothing and sank into bones, froze muscles and delayed reactions. It was  _bright_ , the rarely seen sun out in full force today but not to ease the cold, no, only to reflect off the glittery crust of the previous day’s snow and blind anyone who looked too long.  
  
James cursed the sun and cursed the cold– or he would have cursed, had he been warm enough to even talk, but he was stiff and quiet on his hill top, unnaturally still because if he moved the ice on his clothing would crack and break and on such a quiet morning, the sound would be too loud across the valley.  
  
He peered through his scope and strained to see Ronin bundled up in a tree down below, the archer looking just as frozen as James felt, and across the clearing, James could just barely see the glint of Samuel’s rifle buried in the bushes.  
  
He hated ambushes. 

Well no, that wasn’t true. James  _loved_ ambushes, loved to watch the confidence on the enemies’ face that turned to shock when they saw soldiers  _pouring_ from the trees, loved the rush of victory when the rebels swept across a clearing and flattened the opposing force without so much of a scratch.  
  
He loved ambushes.  
  
He hated  _this_ one.  
  
James was distracted, his trigger finger itchy with the need to move, to  _kill_. Two months they’d been gone from the manor now and it felt like two years and he needed something to distract himself from how badly he missed Tony and  _home_.

_Killing someone would certainly be a good distraction._

James had been the one to send the note through to Natalia this time around, and the words had been stilted, forced. He’d wanted to reassure his sister, wanted to tell her that they would be close enough to visit with in a few weeks but he couldn’t say that in a letter. He wanted to write sweet things to Tony, but he couldn’t do that either, not without compromising things. 

As it was, James hadn’t been able to spare Ronin or Samuel to deliver the letters like he’d promised his sister, so the messages had been sent by way of rebel supporters not directly linked to the army, passed through enough hands that no one person would be able to pin point where they had come from and where the letters were going.  
  
The final recipient and deliverer was a man known only as Mr. Lee, a man that had already been  _ancient_ when Natalia and James still lived at home together and now was well  _past_ ancient but still as cantankerous as he’d ever been. 

Mr. Lee had a shock of white hair and giant glasses and was the only one Ivan Romanov had trusted to drive Natalia to and from parties and appointments as she’d grown up. Mr. Lee was also the one to help Natalia flee her first husband’s home after the man had so…  _unfortunately_ … passed away and he had stayed living in the village closest to the manor all these years.  
  
Mr. Lee wasn’t connected to the revolution in any way, harmless enough to deflect any sort of attention, old enough to not be seen as a threat, and James made sure the man received a pile of gold coins every time he delivered a letter.  
  
It was as close to secure a line of communication as James could manage, and it  _still_ wasn’t secure enough for him to send more than a few sentences at a time.  
  
He remembered this misery from loving Stevie– the missing, the  _loneliness_ , the way he couldn’t sleep at night– but it seemed worse now. It was probably the cold, probably the way they were close enough to home to go if they wanted, but too far to make it without compromising security. It didn’t help to know Tony was sleeping every night wrapped warm in James’s bed, coming flushed from the bath with his hair in ringlets to curl naked beneath the blankets, or maybe even to–  
  
James snapped back to attention when a flash of blue caught his eye, bold against the pure white snow and out of place among the deceptively barren plain. His men were all in grey and black, blending into tree trunks and the shadows and  _blue_ was out of place, which meant  _blue_ was a target.  
  
James blew out a slow breath and steadied his gun at his shoulder. A check at Samuel, a check at Ronin, and James pulled the trigger.  
  
The shot  _cracked_ through the airloud enough to hurt James’s ears, and in the distance  _red_ sprayed up against the snow as the body dropped like a stone, and just that quickly, the quiet afternoon exploded into chaos.  
  
 _Well orchestrated chaos_.  
  
The rebels dropped from trees, rolled from the underbrush, leapt to the hill tops and rained fire down onto the oncoming soldiers. The Tsar’s men fought in rank, fought line after line in an orderly march and the rebel soldiers took them apart without any effort at all.  
  
Ronin watched from above and picked off anyone getting too  _feisty_ , and from his perch on the hill, James took out anyone Ronin couldn’t get to fast enough. It was unusual for the  _Komandir_ to not be out front with his men, but this was the sort of ambush that required eyes every where, and James saved more than one life with precisely aimed shots and smooth reloads.  
  
The battle was over almost before it began, the Tsar’s men cut down by an enemy they didn’t see coming until it was too late, the supply wagons captured and horses tethered and every single rifle, pistol, bullet and knife pulled from belts and stashed away for future use.  
  
“A good day today.” That night at camp, Ronin came to James with an inventory list of everything they’d managed to steal, minus anything the soldiers had decided to keep for themselves, and a tally of any injuries sustained and the number of dead they’d inflicted on the other side. “All these supplies were meant for the fort out East, this raid will hurt ‘em.”  
  
“They’ve gotta be paying attention to us now.” Samuel ducked into James’s tent with a clean shirt for Ronin and a portion of dinner for the  _komandir_. “This is the third supply train we’ve hit in two weeks. Splitting our forces was a great idea but we need to rejoin for this next drive forward.”  
  
“I know.” James tapped his pencil on the map as he plotted their next route. “I’m worried about being so close to the manor though. A day’s ride is  _close_ , close enough that if the two of you get away to see Natalia, there’s a risk of being seen and of being followed.”  
  
“James–” Samuel began and James interrupted, “I know what I promised, Samuel. I know I told my sister you’d be able to see each other but I dunno if we can risk it. That sort of connection between the army and the house–”  
  
“James.” Sam cut in again. “Couple years now we’ve lived full time with Talia while you were out here causing a ruckus and nothing  _ever_ came to the manor.”  
  
“Yeah, but since Natalia brought Tony back?” James raised his eyebrows. “We’ve had officials show up unannounced and then Rumlow paying visits before he switches sides. Mikhail is aware of Tony living at the house as well, which means those who  _want_ to know, will know how many people are there at all times. We stage a fight too close to home and it might prompt someone to pay Natalia a visit under the assumption that a blow like that would compromise us.”  
  
“Or force Natalia into revealing anything she knows.”  
  
“Talia never wants to know what we do.” Ronin shook his head. “She wouldn’t have anything to tell.”  
  
“But no one cares about that.” James said grimly. “There are a hundred reasons a dozen different people want my sister dead, taking our focus off the fight by kidnapping or killing her and the twins would be a means to an end for them.”  
  
“You think she’s in danger.”  
  
“I think she  _will_ be if we focus this next campaign too close to home.”  
  
“Damn it.” Samuel swore and then swore again, banging his fist on the table and folding his arms angrily. “It’s been two months, James! Two months since we’ve seen her! Nothing more than a note every few weeks, she can’t write back cos we’re always moving! We promised to take care of her and we promised not to leave and now–”  
  
“Easy.” Ronin muttered. “James has got a good reason for it.”  
  
“I don’t care!”  
  
“M’sorry.” James said quietly, signing the words to Ronin. “To both of you. I know what I promised, I know what  _you_ promised but if we want to finish this and go home someday soon then we gotta press through it.”  
  
Samuel stormed from the tent, stomping towards the stables to find his horse and ride for a while, and Ronin turned back to James, worry creasing his face.  
  
“I’m sorry.” James said again. “I want to get home too but–”  
  
“Three years we got to stay with Talia, to make a home and be in love and not have to hide anything.” Ronin held his hand up so James wouldn’t talk. “Three years we got to pretend the war wasn’t happening, but we were  _just_ pretending, and we both knew it. Talia knew it. Kids knew it. Samuel’s mad but he’ll be fine. Just  _finish this_. Figure out how to finish this so we can go home.”  
  
“I already know how.” James turned to his bedroll and retrieved a different map, one he kept hidden just in case Rumlow hadn’t been the only traitor in the camp.  _This_ map was marked with different routes, different camps highlighted, different numbers scrawled in the margins and as James spread it out across the table and pinned it in place, Ronin’s eyes narrowed and then widened in shock.  
  
“You can’t possibly think–”  
  
“I absolutely do.” James confirmed, jabbing his finger at a specific spot on the map. “We focus our effort here while they still think we are over here?” Another spot on the map. “We could take it in one fell swoop. Deal a blow so extreme it would take them  _months_ to mobilize enough men to recover, months to scramble enough supplies. We captured supplies meant for the fort today, so they will already be low. You cannot win against a Russian winter, and if we strike while  _we_ are the only ones with supplies and ammunition, they cannot fight the winter long enough to push back before we’ve won.”  
  
“They cannot fight the Russian winter?” Ronin repeated. “Or the Winter  _Soldier_?”  
  
“Neither.” James vowed, his pale eye lighting with determination. “I will bring a winter like the Tsar has never seen and when it is finished, he will  _have_ to let us go.”  
  
*******************  
  
“Do you miss your parents?” Pietro threw another log on the fire and poked at the coals to try and coax more heat from the pieces. “Have you sent word to them since leaving Italy?”  
  
“No.” Tony split a smaller piece of wood into kindling pieces and tossed them into the box near the wall. “No, I haven’t.”  
  
“It’s been almost a year.” Pietro said in surprise. “Almost ten months?”  
  
“Almost.” Tony allowed. “And no, I haven’t bothered to send word. I doubt my Papa would care either way, and my Mama– she always said she would know if anything happened to me, she’d feel it in her heart.”  
  
“But you don’t miss them?” Pietro pressed and Tony frowned. “They are your family, how did you just up and walk away?”  
  
“It’s different, leaving your family when you are grown.” Tony said after a minute. “When you are old enough to look at your parents and see the mistakes they’ve made, the way they have failed you? It makes walking away easier.”  
  
“I don’t think my parents could ever fail me badly enough to make me never want to see them again.” Pietro’s hair was getting shaggy, and he pushed the blond strands from his eyes impatiently. “I would give  _anything_ to see my Ma smile, to hear my Da sing out of tune in the morning. I could never leave Wanda, not now. I want to go to war, but I saw how Talia cried when Ronin and Samuel left– I couldn’t do that to her. She’s lost enough, doesn’t need to lose me too. How could you ever want to walk away from family willingly?”  
  
“A broken heart makes a man do unthinkable things.” Tony kept breaking kindling. “You’ll understand one day.”  
  
“I hope I never understand that sort of thing.” Pietro said stubbornly and Tony’s smile was sad as he agreed–  
  
“….I hope you never understand it either.”  
  
*****************  
*****************  
  
 **March**  
  
Late February brought storms  _howling_ through the manor land, the long winter nights breaking to reveal blizzards filling the precious few hours of daylight, snow stacking in drifts up the outside steps and settling in heaps against the door. The winds  _whistled_ around the corners of the manor and rattled at the windows, frost climbed the glass panes high every day, unimpressed and unswayed by any efforts to stall their march.  
  
Inside the manor, Natalia and Wanda hung the longest blankets over the windows and rolled the smaller ones at the base of the doors to keep out the cold air that crept relentlessly through the seams. Pietro and Tony kept the fire place in the kitchen fed at all hours of day and night, and one clear day, they tied a rope from the door way to the stables so they wouldn’t get lost in a blizzard while doing chores.  
  
It was  _miserable_ , isolating and depressing and as February slid into March, the weather only got worse.  
  
“We need something to do with our time.” Tony decided one day, and when the women looked up from their sewing with raised eyebrows, he amended, “Pietro and I need something to do with our time.”  
  
“Speak for yourself.” Pietro snorted, eyeing Tony balefully from his pile of blankets on the couch. “All my energy is being used to stay warm.”  
  
“ _Sbrigati_.” Tony snapped his fingers impatiently. “Hurry up, come along.”  
  
“Antonio, what are you going to do?” Natalia watched Tony put on a pair of gloves. “Surely not more chores?”  
  
Tony pursed his lips as he thought his answer through. “James told me about the safe beneath the Falconer’s lodge, the one with extra weapons and a stash of gold.”  
  
“Mm-hmm.” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “What about it?”  
  
“I think it might be better if we move additional weapons and our coin out there.” Tony peered out the window as if he could see anything other than swirling snow. “With Rumlow selling whichever secrets he feels entitled to and with Ronin and Samuel along with James, it’s only a matter of time before we have to leave the manor house for one reason or another. It would be better to have supplies and money stock piled in the escape corridor.”  
  
“For one reason or another?” Wanda’s voice pitched in alarm. “What does  _that_ mean? Why would we leave?”  
  
“Because there is a chance Rumlow will tell my enemies that I am here with my children and a husband that is not only foreign, but also not a soldier. They will assume we are vulnerable, and come to take me– and maybe all of us– away.” Natalia didn’t take her eyes off Tony, both impressed that he had come to that conclusion, and irritated that she hadn’t thought about it first. 

 _I am getting careless._  

“Capturing the Black Widow would be a triumph for many, and even if they have moved past seeking vengeance for my supposed crimes, capturing the Winter Soldier’s sister and holding her and the family hostage would be a sure way to distract the rebel forces.”  
  
“James would burn a path to the Tsar’s castle if it meant saving you.” Pietro muttered. “And he’d hafta race Samuel and Ronin to get there.”  
  
“Exactly.” Natalia picked up her sewing again. “Why else, Antonio?”  
  
“We can leave a message in the safe so if James and the others make it home and we are gone, they can find us.” Tony finished and Wanda’s face crumpled in despair, the girl knowing in her heart that if  _they_ were gone, the chances of Samuel and Ronin coming home were all but finished. “A set of coordinates, enough food to last a few days travel, enough money to grease palms and encourage border officials to look the other way. If somehow the men make it home again, we need to help them to find us wherever we’ve gone. Since we are trapped inside the manor for now, this is as good a time as any to begin.”  
  
“Alright then.” Pietro freed himself from the bundle of blankets and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Alright, I’ll help.”  
  
Tony inclined his head towards the stairs so the boy would follow, and as they headed up to the bedrooms, Pietro asked– “How do you know about this sort of thing, Tony? About secret tunnels and messages in safes? You are a posh Prince, surely living here for these months hasn’t given you so much insight into the ways of war.”  
  
“Brescia has been involved in a war for decades.” Tony went straight to the hidden wall in James’s room and set to work piling the rifles and ammunition on the floor, tossing the coin aside to be counted later. “Much of it has moved away from the city, but as a  _bambino_ , as a child, I followed my father through tunnels below our house that led out beyond the city walls. I learned to shoot every rifle in the house, which ammunition can be substituted for another in an emergency,  how much food a person needs to survive for a week on the run.”  
  
He handed Pietro a box of bullets and lay a set of pistols across it. “I know how far a horse can run at a flat out sprint before needing to rest, how long you can continue hiking into the mountains when the air is thin, and how to tell direction from the stars, from the way the water flows and where the moss grows at the base of a tree.”  
  
Pietro’s mouth fell open in surprise and Tony smiled a little. “No matter what the family thinks, I am not just a posh Prince, Pietro. I am rich, and  _mia famiglia_  is very famous, and yes I am titled and born into a lifestyle few can even imagine, but I was still a child born into a war. I only saw it from a distance, but it affected my life anyway.”  
  
“…I didn’t know.”  
  
“Most people don’t.” Tony brushed off Pietro’s apologetic tone. “And even if they did, what is my experience compared to what you and Wanda have been through? Natalia and James? Samuel and Ronin? All war taught me was how to theoretically survive  _if_ I had to. You all taught yourself to survive because war didn’t give you a choice.”  
  
Pietro was quiet as they carried everything downstairs again, and Tony handed off the bag of coin to Natalia with instructions to “Tally this please, write it down so we know exactly how much?”  
  
Natalia obeyed with out asking why, and Tony opened up the door carved into the floor of the pantry and waved Pietro through. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”  
  
The door closed, and Wanda murmured, “He has stepped up to protect our family so well, don’t you think? Imagine if you’d actually brought a spineless, easy to manage Italian home with you like you planned?”  
  
“Mmm.” Natalia made a quiet noise of agreement as she counted the coins. “I managed to find not only the prettiest man at the ball, but also the smartest. Almost as if I were an excellent spy who chose my target wisely.”  
  
“Of course.” Wanda rolled her eyes and Natalia smiled to herself. “What was I possibly thinking?”  
  
****************  
James lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, inhaling the smoke and holding it in his lungs for a long minute before finally exhaling. “S’fuckin’  _cold_.”  
  
Ronin grunted something in agreement, rolling his own cigarette with nearly numb fingers and holding it up for Samuel to light. “You say that like you never been through a winter before.” Ronin blew a plume of smoke and handed it off to Samuel. “You’re  _Russian_ , Buck. Named after the damn season, you should be used to it.”  
  
Samuel and Ronin laughed, but James puffed out a surprised breath and said, “You called me  _Buck_.”  
  
“Sorry.” Ronin said/signed, shaking his head. “It’s been a long time but I still forget.”  
  
“This is like old times.” Samuel scratched at his chin and sighed. “Fighting together again, war and strategy and all that. All we’re missing is–”  
  
“Stevie.” James finished and took another long drag, the end of his cigarette glowing bright red. “All we’re missing is Stevie and it’d be just like old times. Marchin’ our asses through the snow and the cold to fight the damn Rebs? Now  _we’re_ the rebels. What would Stevie think’a that?”  
  
Ronin and Samuel exchanged careful looks, then Ronin shrugged. “Think Stevie would fight for whatever side you’re on, James.”  
  
“Yeah.” James nodded and flicked ash aside. “Yeah, you’re right.”  
  
“You uh–” Samuel cleared his throat. “You still miss him?”  
  
“Not like I used to.” James looked down at the ground as he answered, kicking at the snow with his boot. “Seems like Tony helped. Maybe I didn’t miss Stevie like I thought I did for a long time, but didn’t realize till Tony came along.”  
  
Another look between Samuel and Ronin. “James. When this is all done, maybe– maybe we should leave. You aren’t wagin’ this fight to forget about Stevie any more, you got someone at home and so do we. Think the Winter Soldier’s paid his dues and can move on now.”  
  
“You think?” James sent them both a disbelieving glance. “And where would I move on to? You both followed me here to war, where would we go from here?”  
  
Ronin cracked a smile. “You’re the one beddin’ a rich Italian, James. Let’s go live at his house and use all  _his_ blankets and firewood for a change.”  
  
James actually laughed at that, throwing back his head and laughing out loud with two of his oldest friends, his most trusted allies. Family found on the battlefield was forever family, after so many years, James couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t include both Samuel and Ronin in its every day.  
  
“When this is over.” he finally said, as their laughter dissolved into chuckles. “When this is over, we will leave. Take Talia and the twins somewhere warm, maybe back to Tony’s home. I promise.”  
  
James stubbed out his cigarette and pulled his hat down firmer to his ears. “I’ve had enough of war. Soon, we will go home.”  
  
***************  
  
Brock Rumlow had grown quickly accustomed to life on the  _other_ side, to expensive wines and soft couches, warm clothes and sheltered rooms. It felt less like betrayal and more like a business transaction to be outlining the rebel army’s movements, to be marking on maps their strongholds and supply depots when he was conversing with Generals in plush offices and eating fine food.  
  
“The rebel army is concentrating their attacks here.” Kunetzov said, circling an area on the map and motioning Rumlow forward to see it. Kunetzov was neither marshal nor general, but he had enough influence to make Rumlow’s life  _miserable_ if the traitor didn’t cooperate, so Brock picked up his glass of wine and crossed to the table to get a closer look. “You worked alongside the Winter Soldier for a decade and longer. Where will he be going now?”  
  
“His family home is–” for a reason not entirely known even to himself, Brock pointed  _west_ of where the manor home sat tucked into the valley. “– in this area here, I cannot give exact coordinates on so general a map, but it is here behind these mountains. Knowing James, he will bring his men around here–” Brock swept his finger east following the river. “–and plan his next attacks here in the East.”  
  
“The only thing here is  _Nakhozyl_.” Kunetzov disagreed. “That is our strongest outpost in Sokovia. He would be foolish to try and attack it.”  
  
“But the battle here–” Rumlow directed the Colonel’s attention to the marker of the last skirmish with the rebel army. “–struck a supply train heading for  _Nakhozyl_. This deep into winter, it will take months to replace those supplies, which means the soldiers at the fort are operating on the barest edges of ammunition and food.”  
  
“Still.” Kunetzov insisted. “The Winter Soldier is not a reckless man. Whether our soldiers are fully equipped or not,  _Nakhozyl_ is still a fortress. He would have to lay it under siege for weeks, his rebels out in the cold and weather–” 

He shook his head. “No. No I am more inclined to believe he will keep the fight close to where his family is. If I send my men out as soon as the weather breaks, they will be able to sweep through and down onto the house where the Black Widow makes her home. Holding his sister hostage will not only satisfy those the spy has wronged, but also divide the Soldier’s focus.”  
  
Brock felt a tug at his heart, a beating at his subconscious and pull at his mind that tasted an awful lot like  _guilt_ , the first he’d felt since turning his back on James and the army and running for the other side.  
  
“The Black Widow has nothing to do with the Soldier’s vendetta.” he said after a moment. “They have never worked together, nor shared information. She is not a part of this.”  
  
“And yet when the Soldier came for you in Kiev, the Widow was working the party below.” Kunetzov said blandly. “And no matter how others may believe your word as scripture, I will never trust a soldier of the rebellion. You turned your back so easily on your compatriots, what is there to ensure you are not doing the same to us?”  
  
Brock was silent and Kunetzov nodded in satisfaction. “We mobilize the men when the storm lifts. I am done being a step behind the Winter Soldier, this time we will strike where he is not expecting.”  
  
“We move at dawn.”  


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this chapter
> 
> I have actually had this chapter planned out for about a six months now, ever since I first thought of a winteriron historical au and started working on it. I always knew this chapter would happen this way, including the poetry and the-- the other stuff and it feels good to finally get it out here for everyone to read.

**April**  
  
 _The weather has eased and we are all well and safe. I’m sorry for not sending word, and sorry a visit home was not possible. Believe that we all wished for a different outcome but if we hope to finish this anytime soon, we have to focus. Home is calling us, but war demands come first, then we will all find something new. Tell the twins we miss them. For Tony: I have come over eighteen mountains since our parting, and am ready to find the rest. For Talia: S &R send their love._  
  
“It’s probably better this way.” Natalia folded the letter and handed it off to Tony. “Not seeing them, I mean. Saying goodbye again might actually end me. I couldn’t stand to have them home for a little and then wave good bye as they leave me. This is easier.”  
  
Tony smiled to himself when he saw the line meant specifically for him, and Natalia asked, “What does that mean? That he has come over eighteen mountains and is ready to find the rest? Is it a reference to distance? To miles traveled?”  
  
“No it’s–” Tony swallowed back the surge of emotion at seeing James’s words, the call back to the murmured confession of love. “–the day James left, he told me loved me. Not in those exact words but he said he would cross a thousand mountains–”  
  
“And a thousand lands if that’s what it took to come home to you.” Natalia finished and Tony looked up in surprise. “That’s lovely, Antonio.“  
  
“…you know what he– how do you know what he said?”

“Our Mama wrote poetry.” Natalia’s green eyes took on a far away cast as she tapped her fingers at her bottom lip. “Page after page, an entire book of it really, because Da was gone for weeks at a time, sometimes even months, and she was lonely. We would be trapped here in the manor all winter and while James grew sullen and I practiced my embroidery,  Ma would write. She filled a beautiful red book with her poetry, and our favorite was simply called  _Winter._ It was a poem of longing, of wishing for Spring, wishing to travel, to see the world, to find her way back to the one she loved.”  
  
“She didn’t love your Da.”  
  
“I think perhaps Mama loved Da the day they were married, and realized the truth of his nature by their wedding night.” Natalia said vaguely. “And her poems were  _always_ for someone else.”  
  
“The one named Winter–”  
  
“Was our favorite. James read it aloud at her funeral.” Natalia’s sigh seemed to come from the depths of her very soul. “He stood there at Mama’s grave and read from her book, read every line of  _Winter_ while staring my Da straight in the eyes, daring him to make a scene about it. James threw the red book into Mama’s casket, slammed the lid shut, and recited the final lines of Winter–  _With you I am warm, as if winter has left my soul. I’d cross a thousand mountains for you, my darling. I’d cross a thousand lands if that’s that it takes to come home to you again._ ”

"He was gone after that.” She twisted her lips into something of a smile. “It was another few months before he left home, but James was gone the moment we buried Mama. I lost him that day and he never came home again, not really.”

Tony’s heart started pounding, nearly sending him to his knees in a rush of  _understanding_ and Natalia’s grew a little more. “James might never come right out and say he loves you, Antonio. It took Ronin and Samuel  _years_ to be able to say those words to me. Soldiers are– this life is–” 

She shook her head. “But he is quoting you Ma’s poetry, the strongest words of love he has ever heard, the ones he’s known his entire life. James is promising the last beat of his heart, the last drop of energy he has to climb mountains and cross countries to be with you. And if he wants to call you  _home…?“_

She let the question trail off and Tony nodded, his tongue thick in his throat. "That’s quite the promise from a man like James.”  
  
“It  _is_ quite the promise, so see to it that you uphold your end. I love you Antonio, but I won’t stand to see my brother’s heart broken again.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Tony met Talia’s eyes steadily, willing her to see the truth in his gaze. “I promise.”

Natalia nodded that she understood and got to her feet, gathering her robes around her body and holding out her hand for Tony. “You’ll come to bed? The twins are already settled.”  
  
“Yes.” Tony folded the letter away and checked once more to make sure the doors were locked before taking Natalia’s hand and walking her up the stairs.  
  
The indomitable redhead had been tired lately, more so than usual. Tired and  _emotional_ , her worry bordering on paranoid as the winter stretched on and on with nothing more than a few cursory lines from the soldiers to allay her fears.  
  
And it was still  _cold_ , cold enough that when she’d suggested Wanda and Pietro begin sleeping in her rooms, neither twin had argued. Wanda shared the bed while Pietro slept on the plush couch next to Talia’s wardrobe, and even though both children knew Talia had asked them to sleep in her room because she was afraid for their safety, everyone pretended it was just to share the heat from the fire.  
  
Tony didn’t sleep in Natalia’s room, but he spent several hours there each evening listening to Wanda read from her book or telling Pietro stories of growing up in Italy as he worked to repair James’s rifle.

One day as Tony and Pietro were clearing out the wall spaces, Tony had found the rifle he’d taken from James so many months before, the one James had been so upset to have ruined and Tony had meant to fix. But between learning chores and falling in love, helping Talia and the twins and the stress of having the man he loved gone in war, Tony hadn’t even thought about the weapon in ages, and when it reappeared he took it right to his room to work on.  
  
It had been difficult to find enough pieces and tools to repair the gun, but more nights than not, Tony sat and worked on the piece by firelight as the family gathered in Talia’s rooms. It was soothing work,  _familiar_ work, something Tony had done more times than he could count. Working with whichever parts he could gather and squinting into firelight  was a far cry from the expansive workshop at the Stark family estate or the beautiful factory owned by the Beretta’s on the outskirts of Brescia, but working with his hands again soothed a sort of itch in Tony’s soul, gave him back a piece of  _himself._  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Wanda commented tonight as Tony helped Natalia to her favorite chair. “When you give it to James, he will be so thankful.”  
  
“How long did it take you to learn to do this?” Pietro turned the rifle over in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the delicately carved stock. “You even fixed the carving.”  
  
“It’s not perfect.” Tony readied his oil and rags and took the gun from Pietro. “But it was simple enough to follow the design and anticipate the next curl. It took me years to learn to repair these pieces, years more to design my own, but it is as natural as breathing now.”  
  
“You miss it.” Natalia piled another blanket onto her lap and up over her chest and arms as if she were still cold, even in the warm room. “Living in Brescia, designing the weapons.”  
  
“I don’t know if I miss it.” Tony began polishing the barrel of the rifle with smooth, even strokes. “But it is a part of me I wouldn’t ever want to forget. Natalia, are you feeling alright?”  
  
“I’m perfectly fine, my love.” Natalia covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “Just tired.”  
  
“You are still feeling sick to your stomach?” Wanda wanted to know. “I could make you some more ginger tea?”  
  
“We are already here and warm.” Natalia waved her off and snuggled further into her blankets. “No need to dote on me. Let’s have a chapter of your book and go to bed.”  
  
Tony stayed working on the rifle until Pietro was snoring on the couch, until Wanda had crawled into the big bed next to Natalia and burrowed under the heavy quilts. Only after everyone else was asleep did Tony sneak out of the room and down the hall to James’s bedroom, stoking the fire in the grate and falling asleep hugging a pillow tight, wishing it was his soldier.  
  
Tonight his mind was spinning, the lines from the poem  _Winter_ rolling round in his head, memories of  _home_ making him melancholy. He was worried about Natalia, about the fatigue she couldn’t seem to shake, and he was worried about the twins. Pietro was withdrawing a little more every day, and Wanda’s smiles were forced more than they were natural. Three months and some weeks their soldiers had been gone and every day was a little more difficult.  
  
Tony rolled over in bed and hugged the pillow closer to his chest.  
  
If only the sun would shine for a little bit, maybe they would all feel better.  
  
*****************  
  
The rebel camp was a flurry of activity, each soldier running through their list of duties with the sort of fierce determination that only came to men desperate for it all to be over. Horses were outfitted for the battle, thicker blankets than usual used to cover the animals sides to offer more protection, their bags packed with extra ammunition, blinders put on the more skittish animals to ensure their focus wouldn’t waver and cost a rider’s life.  
  
They were moving on  _Nakhozyl_ at sunrise. The last week had been spent moving forward in small increments until the rebels were as close to the fort as possible without being seen by the patrolling guards. Spies were sent to mark every inch of  _Nakhozyl’s_ outer walls looking for anything that appeared to be weak, perhaps a single door that let the guards duck in and out without having to go through the main gates, or a worker’s entrance that could be breached with little effort.  
  
James collected every piece of information he could have on the fort, went over the plans over and over and  _over_ and in a few hours, he would give the command to move out. The rebel army had been collected from all corners of Sokovia, every man that could be spared brought here to their camp, each soldier primed and ready to turn and make one massive,  _brutal_ rush to strike a blow deep at the heart of the Tsar’s power in Sokovia.  
  
 _This would be the day the tide was turned._  
  
“Samuel.” James put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply for Samuel, who in turn grabbed Ronin and brought him to the tent that served as James’s headquarters. “Any word from the front?”  
  
“Expectin’ new in any minute now.” Samuel confirmed, slumping onto James’s cot and tugging Ronin down with him. “How are you feeling about all this?”  
  
“Feelin’ like I’m close to killing my last man.” James grinned and undid his flask, taking a long drink before tossing it Ronin. “After tomorrow, I want you and Ronin to go home to Natalia.”  
  
Two pairs of eyes widened in alarm and James shook his head before either man could argue. “I promised my sister you two could stay with her, and I intend to keep that promise. If all goes well tomorrow, I won’t need you both here with me for the rest of the fight. It will take so long to get men here from Moscow and St. Petersburg, they will be stalled most of the winter and in the meantime, myself and my men can wreak havoc anything that is left.”  
  
 _Stay here_. Ronin signed.  _With you._  
  
“No.” James disagreed. “No reason for  _all_ of us to be away at war.”  
  
“Then you come with us.” Samuel hooked an arm around Ronin’s waist and leaned back on the bedroll, pulling the archer with him until they were settled comfortably together. “We’re not leaving you here, so either we all go home or we all stay. All there is to it.”  
  
“Don’t do that on my bed.” James pointed at them and scowled. “Nothing messy. I mean it. And m’serious about you going home, too. We haven’t been able to get word to the manor in a few weeks and I’m sure you’re both half crazy with worrying about Natalia . I’d feel better knowing you two were there to look out for everyone. Tony’s good with a gun and the twins are fine at close range but–”  
  
“We’re not leaving you.” Samuel repeated. “End of story.”  
  
James watched them for a long minute, but neither Ronin nor Samuel wavered, and finally he nodded jerkily. “Alright then. Just gonna make sure we finish this mess once and for all, then.”  
  
Samuel and Ronin slept, wrapped up in each other and stealing a few brief moments of rest before all hell broke loose at daybreak, so it was only James awake in the tent when the runner came with news.  
  
“What’s the matter?” James went on instant alert when he saw the fear on the man’s face. “ _Chto sluchilos’_? What happened?”  
  
“ _Komandir_.” the runner handed over the report and James scanned it quickly, then shouted a curse that woke Samuel and Ronin as he read it again.  
  
“James?” Samuel bolted to his feet, Ronin right behind him already drawing his pistol.  
  
“They split the forces at the fort.” James shoved the paper at Ronin and went to suit up, throwing on his light armor and wrapping a belt of knives around his waist. “More than half are still there, but earlier today they took two dozen men West.”  
  
“…West.” Ronin’s face washed pale. “You’re sure?”  
  
“West.” the runner confirmed and Samuel whispered, “ _Talia_.”  
  
“Go.” James shrugged into his heavy coat and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Both of you go now, you’ll move faster than the soldiers can. Get home and get our family safe. You–” he grabbed at the runner. “You tell our men to saddle up. We will move  _now_ , we aren’t waiting for sunrise.”  
  
“James–”  
  
“ _Go_!” he shouted.  
  
Samuel and Ronin  _went_ , racing away into the dawn, riding for their lives to save their family, hoping against hope they weren’t already too late.  
  
***************  
***************  
  
It was an unseasonably warm day, the sun shining and snow melting in rivulets down the stairs and puddling in the yard. It wouldn’t last of course, by nightfall it would be frozen solid and the melted snow turned to sheets of ice, but for now Natalia threw open the doors to the manor and they breathed in temperate air for the first time in weeks.  
  
“Should we take the horses for a ride?” Wanda asked eagerly, tipping her head back to feel the still weak but entirely welcome sunshine. “I would love to get out for a few hours. Natalia, please?”  
  
“I don’t see why not.” Natalia allowed with a smile, squeezing at Tony’s hand as he helped her down the slick steps. “Perhaps I’ll just walk along though, I’ve never been much for jostling around on top of some wild animal. Pietro my love, you’ll come too?”   
  
“I’ll stay home.” Pietro squinted into the sunshine. “I meant to clean the rifles today anyway, and that is easier with fresh air so the smell doesn’t suffocate me.”  
  
“I’ll go with the girls.” Tony decided and Wanda beamed at him. “I don’t want to clean guns, and if I  _don’t_ go along, I’ll worry. Pietro, you’re fine here?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Pietro promised, waving them off. “It will be nice to have the house to myself after being trapped inside with all of you!”  
  
“Oh–!” Wanda flicked at his ear in exasperation. “I didn’t want you to come along anyway!”  
  
“We won’t be more than an hour, darling.” Natalia promised, and blew Pietro a kiss. “Come along, Antonio. You’ll have to help Wanda saddle a horse, I’m afraid I’m useless with that sort of thing. Oh Wanda, can you ride in that dress? Should you change? Pietro, eat something for lunch please, you didn’t eat much for breakfast and–”  
  
“Come on!” Tony laughed and urged Natalia towards the stables where he could hear the horses already prancing and pushing against their stalls. “Your hair will fall out if you worry any more! Pietro is fine, we will only be gone an hour! Come on!”  
  
“Fine fine fine.” Natalia smacked Tony’s hands away from her waist and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll stop worrying for an hour if only to preserve my hair.”  
  
“If only for your hair.” Tony teased and bent low to kiss her cheek. “It’s good to see you smiling, love. You’ve been melancholy lately.”  
  
“This season has been surprisingly difficult.” Natalia answered vaguely. “But I think a walk and some fresh air will help.”  
  
“Come along, then.” Tony offered the tiny redhead his arm. “Let’s enjoy the warm weather while we can.”  
  
It took only a few minutes to saddle a horse for Wanda, and the girl laughed in excitement as her mount took off at a quick trot across the field behind the manor. Tony and Natalia waved again to Pietro and followed Wanda at a much slower pace, picking their way through the rocks and patches of snow with careful steps until the house was out of sight behind a low rise, and nothing but forest and blue skies stretched out in front of them.  
  
A hour passed faster than any of them noticed, and it was Wanda who came hurrying back on her horse to exclaim, “Natalia! It’s been an hour already, we were supposed to be home! It will be getting dark again by the time we make it back and get chores started!”  
  
“Alright, there’s no rush.” Tony soothed her, patting at her horses nose when the beast nicked uncertainly. “I’m sure Pietro is passed out asleep and doing chores in the dark is nothing new so–”  
  
There was nothing quite as  _startling_ as a gun shot. It was a sound that was as unmistakable as it was frightening, terrifyingly loud and followed by the sort of stillness that could only mean  _awful_ things.  
  
“What was that?” Wanda asked, but she knew, they  _all_ knew, and when a second shot followed the first, Wanda kicked her horse into a gallop and went tearing back towards the manor.  
  
“Antonio, hurry!” Natalia cried and Tony broke into as fast a run as he could manage while still helping her, Natalia holding her skirts up to her knees as she tried to get home again, slipping and sliding on rocks and icy patches and panting in fear, in exhaustion–  
  
–Wanda  _screamed_ as her horse topped the rise behind the house, and Tony’s heart stopped in his chest when he saw the first billows of dark smoke staining the clear sky.  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
At the top of the hill Wanda was frozen, both hands to her mouth, tears streaming down her face and Natalia fell to her knees in a heap, one hand outstretched as if she could stop the horror just by sheer force of will.  
  
The manor house was on fire, engulfed in flames, windows shattering and timber falling as the fire burst through the roof and spit sparks and roiling clouds ash into the air. There was a ground shaking  _boom_ as some sort of explosive detonated near the front door, and the beautiful columns supporting the entry way crumbled to nothing more than dust. In the stables, the other horses were shrieking in fear, and they couldn’t do much more than  _watch_ as the flames shot into the lean to pantry and spread to the kindling box, which ignited in mere seconds and sent fire licking up the outside walls.  
  
“Pietro.” Natalia whispered, and Tony grabbed her tight when she collapsed into a dead faint.  
  
“Pietro!” Wanda screamed and  _screamed_ and it took all of Tony’s self control not to scream as well.  
  
“ _Pietro_!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Character Death (But It’s a Bad Guy)

The letter came ten days later.

Natalia refused to leave Sokovia before finding out what had happened, and she refused to leave the town while there was still smoke from the manor visible on the horizon. Tony rented rooms in the closest inn, paid piles of coin to the owners to ensure that they forgot he and Natalia were ever there, and spent his days drafting telegrams to be delivered to Brescia.

The time had come for him to fulfill his promise to keep their little family safe, and as soon as Natalia was ready to leave, they would be gone.

Ten days it took news to come, the message brought by way of Mr. Lee, who ran nervous hands through his thinning hair and pushed his glasses up his nose , handing the letter to Natalia with a whispered, “So sorry, my dear girl.”

 _Nakhozyl_ had fallen to the rebel forces, attacked before sun up and taken by sun down with little loss of life on the Sokovian side. But the  _Komandir_ had been terribly injured, thrown from his horse and captured, dragged away with the retreating Tsar’s men, gone before anyone realized what had happened.  
  
Samuel and Ronin had been captured hours West, too intent on making it to the manor to notice they were being watched, and they’d been apprehended only hours away from the village, dragged away fighting and shouting and spilling blood trying to reach  _home_.

There was no word as to who had come to set the manor on fire or even  _why_ the house had been burned to nothing more than rocks, but apparently no one was worried that the Black Widow hadn’t been captured. They assumed she was dead, and if not dead, heartbroken and powerless and therefore unimportant.  
  
The word from spies in the cities said the Tsar was  _furious_ over the loss of Nakhozyl,  _furious_ with his Generals for not culling the rebel army sooner,  _furious_ that even with the help of a high ranking traitor, his men had been no match for the Winter Soldier. Rumour had it the Tsar was talking about emancipating  Sokovia even now, disgusted with the loss of life, exhausted from the war, irritated at having expended so many resources on a tiny piece of Russia he’d never ever seen.  
  
 _If the worthless little country wanted to be on their own, so be it._  
  
Brock Rumlow was thrown out in disgrace, the Generals having used him for all they needed, forsaking the promise of  _protection_ they’d made when he’d come to their side. Apparently Rumlow was in hiding, none of the still installed spies having seen hide nor hair of the man since at least a week before  _Nakhozyl_.  
  
Natalia read the letter twice through, and then handed it Tony, who passed it over to Wanda.

Then the Black Widow penned a letter of her own, the first time she’d used the spy channels in years, her message brief and to the point, explicit in it’s instructions and  _threatening_ for anyone who dared disobey.

“Just this one more thing, Antonio.” She told Tony that morning, exhaustion filtering through the words. “Just this one more thing, and then you can take us away." 

***********  
It took less than three days.  
***********  
  
The ground where the manor had stood was black and ugly, a scar that snow had yet to cover, crystals of ice clinging to the few pieces that had refused to burn entirely away. The stone stairs were still standing, leading to  _nothing_ since the foyer had turned to ash, some pieces of thick carpet left in what had been the parlor, fallen through from the second floor as the floors had warped and melted and  _burned_.  
  
Tony had had enough presence of mind to free the horses before the stables had ignited, but the Falconers lodge was nothing more than a few charred beams, the carriage house non existent, the wagon disintegrated to nothing inside.  
  
The orchards and gardens Natalia had hoped to revive in the spring were gone, any hint of  _anything_ that might have been green simply vanished into the ruined earth. The woodshed and it’s carefully hoarded stockpiles had acted as kindling, the pantry where they’d painstakingly stored enough food for the family for the season eliminated, the air still smelling acrid of seared animal fat and spices scorched.  
  
It was gone.  
  
It was all  _gone_ and as Brock Rumlow was dragged from a blacked out carriage with hands and feet shackled, he stared around him at the destruction in sickening awe.  
  
….he’d never meant for this…  
  
 _…not for this…_  
  
Natalia was  _beautiful_ standing there among all the destruction, her brightly red hair perfectly styled, cheeks rouged and lips painted. She was wrapped in fine fur, brilliant sable and gorgeous velvet and she looked every inch a noblewoman, every inch the Natalia Romanova he had known for so many years, every inch the Black Widow and as Rumlow was forced to his knees in front of her, he knew there was no pity to be found in those wicked green eyes.  
  
“Don’t go anywhere.” Natalia told the men that had snatched Rumlow from his hide away in a non descript inn, two rebel soldiers known for their tracking, for their cruelty, for their uncanny ability to find anyone and anything no matter how cold the trail.  
  
It had taken them two days to find Rumlow after word had come from the Black Widow–  _Bring me Rumlow and bring him alive, or I will substitute your body in place of his_ – and the soldiers were all too happy to deliver the traitor into her waiting hands.  
  
“Don’t go anywhere.” she told them without taking her eyes off Rumlow. “I had to ride a horse here and I didn’t enjoy it at all. I’ll be requiring a ride in the carriage back to the inn.”  
  
“My Lady Romanova.” one of the soldiers murmured respectfully and pulled his partner back a considerable distance. Neither wanted to be close when the Widow exacted her revenge.  
  
“Brock Rumlow.” She said flatly and Brock started talking, rambling,  _panicking_ –  
  
“Natalia. I swear, I swear I didn’t tell them where you lived. I tried to convince them to leave you alone, I thought they’d go after James, not after you, not after the children, I  _swear_ –”  
  
“Shut up.” Natalia ordered, and Rumlow shut up, watching with wide eyes as Natalia opened the bottle in her hands and tossed the cork away. “You have ruined my life, Rumlow.”  
  
The former soldier flinched when Natalia tipped the bottle over and poured it onto his head, the too sharp scent of kerosene stinging his nose as it ran down his face. The liquid trickled down his neck and soaked into his jacket, dripped down his sleeves and landed in blots around his bent knees and Brock closed his eyes as fear climbed up his throat and strangled him to silence.  
  
 _Surely she wouldn’t–_  
  
“This is for the soldiers you killed with your greed, the families you ruined because you are a coward and a traitor and sent them willingly into a fight they could not win.” Natalia shook the empty bottle and then broke it on the rocks where Rumlow was kneeling, wiping her hands very carefully on a rag before tossing that at him as well.  
  
“This is for my family.” Natalia took a cigarette from her coat and lit it with steady fingers, pulling deep at the cloves and tobacco and exhaling into the frigid air. “For my children the twins, for Antonio, for my brother your  _komandir_ and for the men I loved.”  
  
“Because we have been through far too much and you didn’t so much as hesitate before striking at our heart.” Another slow inhale, those sharp eyes never leaving Rumlow’s face. “Because James trusted you with his life, he trusted you with  _my_ life, and you betrayed us both. You betrayed us  _all_.”  
  
“You have taken everything from me.” Natalia was whispering now, her throat working as she swallowed. “And I cannot imagine a death that is as cruel as you deserve. Letting you rot in a Sokovian prison is too merciful because you should not be allowed to breathe that long, but putting a bullet through your head is too painless because you should have to  _hurt_ longer than that.”

"You should have to hurt like I’m going to hurt, every day, for the rest of my life.”  
  
“Natalia–” Rumlow whispered. “ _Mercy_ –I never meant for it to go this far. I only meant for James– we all wanted this war to end and I thought if James was out of the way–“

The Widow narrowed her eyes and Brock faltered. "My–my Lady. Mercy.  _Please_.”    
  
“I do not know that word.” Natalia said coldly. “It burned away with the last pieces of my home, and now you will burn too.”  
  
“Natalia–!”  
  
“This is for my family.” Natalia said again, lighting another match and holding it out for Rumlow to see. “And it is still not enough.”

*************  
Rumlow screams echoed across the empty valley for a long time, longer than it seemed possible for a man to burn, long enough that even the two other soldiers turned away and closed their eyes, long enough that Natalia finished her cigarette and lit another, watching the man melt away without expression, without emotion, without a single care.  
  
And when it was over, Natalia tethered her horse to the back of the carriage and climbed inside, telling the driver, “Take me to the city.” and sitting back to not say another word.  
  
It was well past dinner before the carriage arrived at the train station, and Tony looked up with dull eyes and a haggard expression when Natalia finally entered the rail car that was meant to carry them away.  
  
“I didn’t think you were going to come.” He admitted, a bone deep weariness dragging the words, two weeks of grief and pain and loneliness rendering his voice flat, emotionless.  
  
“I had one last thing to finish.” Natalia sat herself across from Tony, pulling her collar up around her neck. “But I’m ready to go now.”  
  
“Do you want one last look?” Tony asked and Natalia’s full lips lifted in a dim approximation of a smile. “Want to say good bye?”  
  
“Good bye to what? This wretched place has taken everything from me. I never want to see it again.”

“Yeah.” Tony swallowed and sat back in his seat. “Yeah, I understand.”  
  
The train pulled from the station and headed West, taking the tattered pieces of their family along with it. Tony, traveling the same tracks he’d come along a year previous, back when he thought his heart was as broken as it could ever be. Natalia, with her gaze set resolutely on the floor so she wouldn’t see Sokovia disappearing behind them, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach hidden beneath her heavy coat.  
  
And in the very back of the car, Wanda sat at Pietro’s bedside and held his burned, bandaged fingers in her own, reading out loud from her novel in hopes that the words would reach Pietro, would encourage him to open his one good eye, would bring any sort of response from her twin because Wanda didn’t know what she would do if she lost him too.  
  
Natalia didn’t cry as the sun set on everything that had been her life, and Tony only put a hand to his heart when the last of the Sokovian peaks disappeared as night caught up with the train and plunged it into darkness.  
  
“Shadows and winter.” Natalia whispered and Tony closed his eyes so he wouldn’t  _rage_ over the unfairness of it all. “My life is nothing more than shadows and winter.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (generic apologies for google translate to Italian)

“ _Signore_ Carbonell Stark.” The butler waved the footman away and opened the carriage door himself, bowing at the waist to offer a polite, “Welcome home to Italia, how was your journey?”

“Tiresome, thank you.” Tony smiled at the man, grateful he had been willing to travel from the Stark estate in Brescia to meet the carriage here at the home in the hills behind Chioggia. “It’s good to see you, Jarvis.”

“ _E ‘bello vederti_ , Antonio.” Jarvis broke into a smile and clapped Tony’s shoulder lightly, all the worry lines accumulated in the last year of hearing nothing from the young master washing away in mere seconds. “It is good to see you as well.” 

Tony turned back to the carriage and held out his hand for Natalia. “This is my wife, the Lady Natalia Romanova-Stark. And our ward–” he tugged Natalia to the side and held out his hand for Wanda as she departed the carriage as well. “ _Signorina_ Wanda Maximoff, and her brother, Pietro Maximoff.”

“Welcome.” Jarvis bent low over Natalia’s hand to kiss her knuckles, and offered the same treatment to Wanda. “ _Benvenuta_. I am most pleased to meet you all.”

Pietro came down the stairs stiffly,  _painfully_ , and Jarvis neatly side stepped the women to wrap his arm around Pietro’s waist and help him to the ground, not so much as blinking at the sight of bandages that covered most of Pietro’s head, or the gauze on his fingers and up along most of his arm.

“Be very careful,  _Signore_ Pietro Maximoff.” Jarvis said lightly. “I would be very disappointed if you spilt blood on my beautiful stone path, I finished scrubbing them this morning.”

Pietro blinked his one uncovered eye at Jarvis, and when the elderly butler only grinned, Pietro’s lips tugged up in a reluctant smile as well.

“What Jarvis means is that he found a local boy who wanted a few coins and was willing to scrub stones all day.” Tony informed them. “Since I am no longer home to cause mischief and earn my way into ridiculous chores as punishment, he has had to resort to hiring help for the more unpleasant cleaning.”

“Your butler made you do chores, Antonio?” Wanda wondered, hoisting her own small traveling bag and collecting Natalia’s as well. “And you obliged him?”

“Jarvis is much more than my butler.” Tony hooked Natalia’s hand through his arm, leaning into kiss her temple when she didn’t say anything. “He was my body guard, he kept me from trouble, drove me places when I was young, covered for my–” a quiet cough. “–indiscretions.”

“Taught the boy to hide love bites with a touch of powder and blush.” Jarvis continued, ignoring Tony’s embarrassed squawk and focusing instead of helping Pietro over the stones to the house. “Fixed clothing when Antonio ran off and got into a mess instead of sitting quietly in the parlor, ensured he could at least act the part of a nobleman even if he was truly a hellion. Taught him to handle a rifle, to assemble a pistol before  _famiglia_ Beretta took him into their work space.”

Jarvis sent Tony a smile over Pietro’s head. “Taught him to throw a punch, though he hasn’t used the knowledge near as often as I’d like.”

“You wished for him to fight?” Wanda’s eyes went very wide. “Our Antonio? When?”

“Only in moments where I would be put to death for accosting a member of the nobility.” Jarvis replied smoothly, and then changed the subject as they arrived at the door. “Here we are. Antonio, the door so I can help Pietro. My Lady Natalia,  _per favore_  allow me the inconvenience of entering ahead of you only this once.”

“Are you alright?” Tony held back as first Jarvis and Pietro entered the foyer, followed closely by Wanda. “Natalia, you haven’t said a word in hours. How are you feeling?”

“Your man Jarvis would have killed your lover if you hadn’t fled the country with me.” Natalia dodged Tony’s question to ask another. “How did your parents feel about the hired help having so much influence in your life?”

“My Papa would not have noticed either way.” Tony let go of Natalia’s hand only long enough to usher her through the door and out of the wind. “And my Mama was glad someone was there to keep me from building wildly explosive things in my bedroom.”

“You never mentioned him.” Natalia’s green eyes flickered in curiosity over the simple yet elegant arches in the foyer, the wide windows and soothing colors. “Not once in all the times we shared our hearts did you mention  _Jarvis_ who seems to be responsible for much of the man you are today.”

“There are many things I didn’t mention all the times we shared our hearts.” Tony tried for light heartedness but it fell flat. “Jarvis spent less time in my life the last several years. Once I was old enough to not need a nanny or close watching, he took on other duties. He and Ana moved away from the main house in Brescia after my twenty first birthday so I didn’t even see him the night I left. It didn’t occur to mention him to you.”

“And yet he came all this way to welcome you home.” Natalia pointed out, clearly not believing Tony’s story. “And you messaged him from Kiev, not your parents nor one of your friends. Why haven’t you mentioned him, Antonio? Why would you hide a relationship with a man who so clearly loves you?”

“Jarvis knows me better than anyone.” Tony pushed open the door of the recently aired out visitors parlor and led Natalia to an overstuffed chair. “And I knew if I stayed, he would counsel me through my anger and force me to confront what I was feeling. I am not too proud to admit I was not strong enough for that, I wanted to wallow in my fury. Jarvis would have counseled me through my anger or–” 

“Or?” Natalia prompted and Tony’s smile was more of a grimace.

“Or he would have gone to the masquerade himself, taken Ty out into the gardens and put a bullet through his forehead for daring to break my heart.”

“…you didn’t tell him what happened between you and your lover.” Natalia realized. “He only found out after you had gone to Sokovia with me.”

“I’m sure it is only the  _height_ of professional protocol keeping Jarvis from giving me a verbal and no doubt physical thrashing.” Tony confirmed. “But when Ana comes to visit, I’m sure she won’t hold back at all. Have you ever seen a nobleman slapped, Natalia? It will not be a pretty sight.”

“I’ve done more than my fair share of slapping noblemen, I’m well used to the sight.” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “The butler’s wife would slap you?”

“Only because I am too big for her to catch over her knee and give a spanking to.” Tony poured Natalia a glass of water, the pitcher obviously set up just a few moments before they arrived. “I never talked about Jarvis and Ana for the same reason I did not talk about my parents or any friends I have left here, and why I only spoke of the bad in my relationship.”

Natalia waited with raised eyebrows and Tony blew out a breath before finishing, “Running away with you was at  _best_ an attempt to escape my broken heart and at  _worst_ , a childish reaction to a temporary problem. I abandoned my entire life because my married lover was staying with his wife.  _Foolish_. Jarvis would have yanked me off the train and marched me back to Brescia and told me to grow up, to act the man he’d helped raise me to be. Ana would have slapped me and then cried because she was worried, then slapped me again/”

“You didn’t talk about them because they were the only ones who could make you return home.”

“Jarvis and Ana expect me to be a better man.” Tony sipped at his own water and sighed. “And I did not want to be a better man, not for a long time. That’s why I never mentioned them.”

“And now?” Natalia inclined her head towards the foyer where they could hear Wanda asking Jarvis where the kitchen was so she could make lunch for the family, and Jarvis’s returning exclamation that Italia was  _not_ the wilds of Russia and that there were  _servants_ for that sort of thing. “You’ve come home again, how do you feel? What do you think?”

“I  _think_ you are hiding something from me.” Tony said bluntly. “I don’t know what was in that message you sent out after we lost our soldiers, and I don’t know why you went back to the manor one more time. You are more closed off to me now than you’ve ever been. You’re sick and exhausted constantly, and I’m worried. I’m worried about you, Talia.  _That’s_ what I think.”

Natalia smiled a little but it was nearly painful. “That’s not what I asked, Antonio.” 

“Alright then.” Tony set his water down and folded his arms. “I think at some point over the last year I learned to stop being selfish, learned to stop wallowing in self pity and somehow became the man Jarvis and Ana would have insisted I be after Ty. So I brought our family home where we can be safe and I can be around the other people I love. I’m ready to deal with everything I left behind, and whatever else comes our way in the future.”

“I think you were always a good man.” Natalia countered, settling back into the plush chair and closing her eyes. “Perhaps it just took you a long time to realize it.”

“Perhaps.” Tony bent down and kissed Natalia’s forehead. “I’m sure Jarvis arranged a room for you, Talia. Why don’t you lie down upstairs?” 

“I’m fine here, Antonio. But thank you.” 

She smiled tiredly and Tony brushed a wisp of hair away to whisper, “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

He left the petite redhead resting in the parlor, and closed the door on the way out, pausing to smile at Wanda as she hovered in the kitchen waiting for a sandwich. “How are you, lovely?”

“Antonio!” Wanda laughed out loud when the serving girl turned to hand her a plate. “I tried to prepare my own food and was nearly shouted at! Do you  _honestly_ have servants to do everything for you here?”

“It’s an adjustment but I’m sure you will manage.” Tony laughed back at her and went to find Pietro, jogging up the stairs to get to the second level and running his hand along the beautifully carved banister.

Some of his favorite memories from childhood had taken place in this house– summers spent swimming at the beach, late nights studying the stars from his bedroom window. Supper as the sun went down over the sea and early breakfasts before running out the door to explore. Tony wanted to bring Ty here one day, had dreamt of long sun soaked weekends with Ty’s arm wrapped tight around him and whispered promises of love as the floral scented air came through the bedroom–

“You are day dreaming Antonio, I would recognize that smile anywhere.” Jarvis came out into the hall, closing Pietro’s bedroom door behind him quietly. “The young man is resting now and I will have two maids assist him in bathing tonight so we can change his bandages. He must be in extraordinary pain, but he hasn’t said a word in complaint. Much different than the way you howl over splinters.”

“I don’t howl—“ Tony started to defend himself but the familiar twinkle in Jarvis’s eyes stopped him. “Well either way, I think for now Wanda and I will continue changing Pietro’s bandages. Any other time he’d be thrilled to have two women helping him bathe but he’s in a lot of pain and can’t make it through without tears. No sense making him more self conscious.”

“Of course.” Jarvis nodded in understanding. “It is difficult for young men to lose their looks, to have women there to see the damage is all the worse. I’ll assemble a kit for you to use this evening.”

“Thank you.” Tony chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. “Jarvis listen, about how I left—“

“No.” Jarvis held up his hand to hush Tony. “First we will get the rest of your new family settled for the evening, then you and I will have a drink and you can tell me everything that has happened in the past year.”

Tony nodded, a hand over his heart as it started  _aching_ when Jarvis gave him a wonderfully comforting smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

***************

The sun was nearly down by the time Wanda settled onto the couch in Pietro’s room, insisting over Jarvis’s protests that she had slept in the same room as Pietro since he was hurt.

“I am perfectly fine sleeping here on the couch.” She assured the butler. “I will retrieve the blankets from my chambers—“

Jarvis snapped his fingers and a maid scrambled over, dropping into a quick curtsy. “You will have the stable boys help you bring the Lady’s mattress from her room along with extra blankets. Now, _per favore_.”

“Sir.” The maid curtsied again and ran to obey.

“We have stable boys?” Wanda laughed in delight. “So many servants! We are used to doing everything ourselves!”

“I can assure you, my dear Lady Wanda, those days are over.” Jarvis bowed low over Wanda’s band and turned on his heel to leave, adding at the door, “You will ring that cord in the corner if you need anything at all, My Lady. Anything at all.“

“Imagine that, brother.” Wanda leaned over the bed and brushed gently over what little she could see if Pietro’s cheek. “You and I living in a house with maids and a cook and stable boys? Jarvis snapped his fingers and they are going to deliver my bed here to the room so I can still be close to you.”

Pietro pressed just lightly at her hand, barely more than a flex of his fingers.

“Things are going to be alright, brother.” She whispered, blinking back tears when his face etched in pain from even the smallest movement. “I know it seems like we’ve lost everything, but we still have each other and we have Natalia and Antonio will make sure we have a safe place to call home. Things are going to be alright. I  _promise_.”

The bed arrived a few minutes later along with extra blankets and hot chocolate carried in by Natalia, and after good night kisses were given all around, Natalia asked, “Do you want me to sleep in here as well?”

“We are fine, Talia.” Wanda assured her. “And you need your rest. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Very well.” Natalia lingered a moment more, but Tony came to escort her to bed, calling a good night to the twins and walking Natalia to her chambers, holding onto Talia’s hand when she shrugged off his arm at her waist. “I don’t like them sleeping alone.”

“Love, they are not alone.” Tony  _tsked_. “Wanda is there with Pietro, same room just like they’ve been since he was hurt. You are only steps down the hall and I am a few steps further. No one, not one of us, is alone.”

“It certainly feels like it. We are missing so many people, and we are in a new place–” Natalia stopped at the door to her room, staring in at the massive four poster bed. “I don’t want to sleep in a bed by myself, Antonio, I don’t know if I’ll survive the night.”

“Talia—“

“Will you stay with me?” She whispered, tears catching bright on her lashes before spilling onto her cheeks, the first time she’d cried since their soldiers had walked away, the first sign of weakness she’d shown at all, the thought of being  _alone_ after everything simply too much to bare. “Please? Antonio don’t make me sleep alone, I can’t do it, I can’t do it.”

“Alright alright, come here.” Tony hushed her gently, turning the tiny woman in his arms and gathering her close. “We’ll sleep in my room tonight. It’s fine, Natalia. It’s fine, come on.”

It took another half an hour to get Natalia set up in Tony’s chambers, a maid bringing a warm cup of tea, another bringing Natalia’s robe and nightgown.

“I’m going downstairs with Jarvis for a while, but I’ll be here again soon.” Tony promised. “Drink your tea and close your eyes. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Tony left when Natalia began to undress, closing the door behind him and jogging down the stairs to get to the parlor, desperate for a chair and a  _drink_ —

“Well ahead of you, Antonio.” Jarvis met him near the kitchen, a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. “The balcony, perhaps?”

“After you.” Tony motioned for the man to precede him out the ornately carved double doors that led outside to the west facing balcony and it’s view of the sea below.

Tony dropped himself into one of the chairs and stretched his legs out, covering his face with one hand and groaning, feeling blindly around for the cup.

“Here.” Jarvis pressed a glass to Tony’s hand and watched with a distinctly fond smile as Tony nearly gulped at the wine. “A year with whichever poison the Russians call wine is far too long, hm?”

“I actually started drinking vodka in my coffee.” Tony chuckled, and then laughed louder when Jarvis’s eyes went wide with horror. “It’s not as bad as you’d think. Especially not when it is so cold the doors freeze solid.”

“ _Dio mio_.” Jarvis muttered. “How did you ever survive an entire year in such a place? When I heard of your Russian bride, I thought you’d be home by the time the rivers froze. Why did you stay?”

Tony poured himself another drink and swirled the claret liquid against the glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I have seen and heard many unbelievable things in the course of our years together, Master Stark. The day you blew your dresser to pieces trying to invent a better gunpowder for one.” Jarvis pointed out. “The day you rigged your father’s rifle to fire eighty bullets within a few moments and nearly took your hand off for another.”

Tony grinned and the butler added, “I would imagine the reason you stayed away as more to do with love than anything, is that right? Though you can imagine my surprise when you wrote to say you were returning with a  _wife_.”

“Yes.” Tony took a long drink. “Yes, my wife. Natalia and I were married the night of the masquerade before we left for Russia. She told me I looked like a man in need of escape, and she was a woman who could offer me one.”

“Fleeing the country because of a broken heart.” Jarvis shook his head. “Antonio—“

“I know.” Tony interrupted. “I know you are disappointed in me, I know that Ana will no doubt shout at me before she hugs me. I should have been mature about it all and realized that Ty and I were  _never_ going to be what I wanted us to be. He is married and I am foolish and I should have remembered all the times you told me to do better,  I should have—“

“Antonio, it makes me very sad you think we would judge you for what you did that night.” Jarvis said quietly. “A broken heart makes strangers of us all, drives a man to drink, to insanity, to  _vengeance_. After all the foolishness you got into as a child, knowing you simply ran away with a beautiful woman was almost a relief. I was afraid of far worse.”

“I’m sorry for not sending word.”

“And I am sorry you felt as if you  _couldn’t_ send word.” Jarvis countered. “I tried to teach you to take responsibility for your actions, to make smart decisions but I never meant to teach you that reaching out to me in times of trouble would end in censure and not acceptance.”

“Ana’s angry, isn’t she?” Tony slumped further into the chair. “My Mama and Papa?”

“Ana burst into tears when we received your message.” Jarvis confirmed. “And then screeched that she would kick you back to Russia herself for making her worry so. A delicate Italian flower,  _mia moglie_. So soft spoken. So fragile.”

Tony laughed quietly and Jarvis added, “I did not send word to _i tuoi genitori_. I assumed you would contact them when you wanted and if you wanted. Your Mama will be relieved to know you are safe, your Papa will simply be happy you returned with a wife, and will hope _il bambino_ will be a boy.”

“ _Il bambino_.” Tony repeated, pausing with his glass halfway to his mouth. “The child? What child? I considered giving Pietro and Wanda my last name so they would be entitled to some of my wealth, thinking it would ease their way into Italian society. But there is no other child.”

“You haven’t noticed the changes?” Jarvis’s eyebrows shot skyward. “New husbands are allowed some ignorance but surely you would notice when your wife ceased her cycles? Sickness and avoidance of certain foods? At least you’ve noticed your arm does not go as far round her waist as it used to.”

“Ceased her cycles.” Tony went very still, very pale. “Sickness…  _Dio mio, Natalia e incinta_. She’s  _expecting_.”

“You speak your Italian with a Russian accent now.” Jarvis said mildly. “But I suppose that isn’t what you are thinking of right now. Tell me, Antonio. How have you been married to the Lady Natalia for a year now and not aware that your wife was expecting?”

Tony was wide eyed silent and Jarvis’s expression cleared in understanding. “Ah. You are husband and wife  _solo nel nome_ , in name only. You have not been sharing a bed chamber or any other intimacies.”

More silence, and Jarvis asked, “Do you have any idea who the father would be Antonio?”

“I um–” Tony cleared his throat. “–I have it narrowed down to two men specifically. My  _g_ od, I cannot believe I didn’t notice.”

“Women are well equipped to hide anything they don’t wish us to see.” Jarvis waved off Tony’s disbelief. “And if you not been sharing rooms, there is no reason why you would have seen the changes.” 

He paused, and added tactfully, “You spent a year in Russia with a woman who was your wife only in name, who is now pregnant with another man’s child and brought along a set of twins that are neither hers biologically or within any familial link. I admire your dedication to your vows, Antonio. But I have to ask  _why_. What has happened in the last year to lead to all this?”

“Oh.” Tony filled his glass again. “Oh, we will need more wine for that story.”

“You cannot shock me, Antonio.” Jarvis shook his head. “Please. Please tell me so I can understand.”

“You don’t think I can shock you?” Tony challenged. “My wife Natalia is one of the most infamous spies in all of Russia. She goes by the name Black Widow because of her reputation for seducing, then killing her lover and because she murdered her first husband. Her Da was hanged as a traitor, her brother is the bastard son of an American ambassador and went to the States to fight in their civil war, then came home with two friends and single handedly restarted the Sokovian revolution.”

Jarvis’s jaw fell open and Tony shook his head yet. “I’m not done yet. The twins? The twins were rescued when their village burned to the ground and took their parents with it. Ronin is a half deaf, scarred archer with an unknown past and his lover Samuel is an escaped former slave and they are both in love with my wife, Talia and one is definitely the father of her child. James goes by the Winter Soldier and is one of the best snipers I’ve ever seen and by  _best_ I mean he is not on any of the lists of snipers that have come through the Beretta plant in Brescia, and by  _best_ I mean I saw him take a shot at a target over eight hundred yards and destroy it.”

Tony drained his glass and set it aside. “Should I keep going? Because that is only an introduction to my family, and nothing close to an explanation or any sort of details.”

“Hm.” Jarvis tried and failed to disguise his surprise. “A Black Widow and a Winter Soldier, homes burning to the ground and two Americans running from their pasts, snipers and spies?”

“That’s not even  _half_ of it.”

“Hm.” Jarvis said again. “I think we will need more wine.”

Tony just smiled and held out his glass for a refill.

*****************

“Antonio.” Jarvis stopped Tony at the base of the stairs after the second wine bottle had been finished and they were both on their way to bed. “You talked for an hour and I know you haven’t told me everything, but could I ask you…?”

“What is it?” Tony worked at his tie and undid the top buttons of his shirt. “There’s so much to tell Jarvis, is this a question that could wait until tomorrow?”

“You are in love with the Winter Soldier, with James?” Jarvis asked quietly. “You didn’t say it outright, but I can see it in your eyes.”

“See what?” Tony swallowed hard. “Love? A broken heart?”

“Shadows.” Jarvis said simply. “They are spilling from your heart and into your eyes and it hurts me to see you  _hurt_ , Antonio. You miss him very much, don’t you?”

Tony grit his teeth and nodded, and Jarvis tsked, “I’m very sorry,  _mio figlio_.”

“Sunshine has a way of chasing shadows away.” Tony swept his arm around to encompass the house. “And here I will have plenty of it. Time will heal us all, Pietro’s wounds and Wanda’s fear, my heartbreak and Natalia’s sorrow. And when  _il bambino_  comes along, there will be even more sunshine in our lives. There is no room for shadows when a baby is laughing.”

“Your time away has made you wise.” Jarvis conceded. “I am only sorry you had to hurt so badly to learn these truths.”

“I am sorry too.” Tony smiled at the man that had been his first friend, his closest confidant for so many years. “But I am glad to be home after all. Good night, Jarvis.”

“ _Buona notte_ , Antonio.” Jarvis went to lock the doors of the house for the night, and Tony climbed the stairs to his bedroom, stopping to peek in at the twins before continuing on.

Natalia was still awake when Tony opened the door and she smiled at him tiredly, standing up and letting her robe billow around her feet. “Antonio, how was your evening with–Antonio?”

She startled when he crossed to her and pushed the robe aside. “ _Antonio_ -!”

“ _Oh_.” All the air punched out of Tony when he saw the way Natalia’s gently rounded stomach pushed at the seams of her night gown, the way she had blossomed into an even fuller figure than before. “Oh Natalia, love–”

Natalia closed her eyes and put her palm over her stomach. “Jarvis noticed, didn’t he?”

“I cannot believe I didn’t.”

“To be fair my love, you’ve never known a woman’s body, much less mine. Of course you wouldn’t notice, not if I was trying to hide it.” Talia bit at her lip nervously. “You’re angry?”

“Why would I be angry?” Tony reached out like he wanted to touch, then let his hand fall away at the last second. “How long? Um how far along–” he shook his head. “I don’t know which question to ask. When did you know?”

“I’ve known since just after the holidays.” Natalia whispered, “Though I’m sure it was conceived sometime before then. I have not had a regular cycle since I was a young woman, when I missed a few I simply assumed it was the stress.”

“And the father–”

“I have no way to know for certain either way.” Natalia sighed and gathered her robe back around herself, tightening it up high on her waist. “But neither do I care. I spent many years thinking I could no longer have children even if I wanted to–” Tony grimaced and Natalia’s lips pulled up in a short smile. “–my first husband was a cruel man for many reasons, darling.”

Tony was quiet and Natalia’s eyes filled with tears. “ _Mne zhal’_ , Antonio. I am sorry. I am sorry for keeping it from you. I didn’t know until after the men had gone, and by the time I was certain, they had been kidnapped and we were running away. I was sure I’d lose the child in the chaos and yet somehow–” she smoothed her hands over the swell of her belly. “–somehow we are alright. This child is a miracle in more ways than one.”

“She will have my last name.” Tony said firmly and Natalia’s mouth fell open in surprise. “I am sure you want her to have Ronin or Samuel’s name, but she will be a Carbonell Stark. Both sides of my family have wealth and power and prestige, and I want her to be safe, well equipped for the world.”

“Antonio.” Natalia murmured. “You do not have to–”

“I’d like Pietro and Wanda to take my name as well, so they will be afforded an easy entry into society.”

“Antonio–!”

“We can talk about it in the morning.” Tony decided and ushered Natalia towards the bed. “You need rest tonight and tomorrow we can talk. Sleep, now.”

“You are calmer about this than I thought you would be.” Natalia dropped her robe and slid under the covers in her nightgown, rolling to her side to watch Tony clean up for bed.

“After two bottles of wine I am calm about very many things.” Tony pulled his shirt off to lay over the chair. “But  _il bambino_  to fill our hearts would never be a terrible thing. There is room here at the house for her to grow–”

“– you are so sure the child is a girl?”

“–nearly certain.” Tony smiled then. “This is life now, Natalia. Here in Chioggia by the sea, with Wanda and Pietro and the little one on the way. This is life and many things are uncertain but our family is not. I am calm because we are together and we are safe and everything else is simply…” he shrugged. “…details.”

“If I would have known wine made you so pliant I would have made you drink that instead of vodka.” Natalia hesitated when Tony climbed into bed, but when he opened his arms she pressed close into his chest, shoulders shaking through a body racking sigh. “Antonio are you  _sure_?”

“Hush.” Tony kissed Talia’s forehead and tugged the blankets up around her shoulders. “What is it you told me on the train? I won’t compromise your virtue, but there is no shame in seeking warmth from someone when our dreams turn terrible. We’ll talk in the morning. Right now everything is fine. We will be alright.” 

Natalia drifted off to sleep with in a few minutes, but Tony lay awake in the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. He missed James with a soul deep ache he never could have imagined, hurt for Natalia losing her loves clear to his  _bones_. He would give anything to hear Pietro teasing Wanda again and listen to the twins burst into laughter, and in some twisted way he missed the Sokovian cold that drew them all to the kitchen, the chores that meant hours spent talking together.

Everything felt hollow and  _shadowed_ and it was warm in the room but Tony was sure he was cold. Their lives were shattered, torn apart and scattered and he thought he could choke on the overwhelming uncertainty of it all.

But Natalia was here, the child she carried safe, and even though Pietro had been so badly hurt he was healing a little more every day and Wanda smiled more every time her brother squeezed her hand or tried to talk.

They would make it. They  _had_ to make it. Tony had spent months leaning on the strength of their unorthodox little family and now it was his turn to be the strong one.

_They would make it._

Natalia stirred and turned over in her sleep, and Tony made sure she was settled before budging up against her back and laying a careful careful arm over her side, his hand resting just lightly on the barely there bump.

He was confused and he was scared but they would figure it out, their family would be alright.

“We’re alright.” Tony whispered past the tears clogging his throat and the heartbreak clouding his eyes. “We’re going to be alright. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be alright.”


	24. Chapter 24

Spring swept through Chioggia in a wash of floral scents and vibrant colors, the gardens bursting into bloom, the trees blossoming, the sea warming where it splashed against the rocks. The wind was gentle as it came through open windows, the sun shining stronger every day and as the weeks passed and life settled, the shadows that lingered over the little family’s shoulders seemed to lift bit by bit.

The servants were dismissed after a few weeks once Wanda and Natalia were comfortable cooking in the beautiful kitchen and organizing their own pantry and linens. Jarvis arranged for a laundry service to come by once a week and for the more perishable groceries to be delivered from the nearby market, but at Tony’s urging, even Jarvis returned to Brescia and his wife, leaving them alone in the house.

Wanda wanted to stay close to her brother, so she moved her belongings from the room across the hall to the one that connected to Pietro’s by way of an adjoining door. Natalia didn’t go so far as to  _ask_ if she could stay in Tony’s room, but more and more of her clothing filled his wardrobe, her favorite bath soap found it’s way into Tony’s bathroom and eventually, she even had a favorite pillow on Tony’s bed. 

It was fine, it was  _fine_.

Tony stepped into his role of patriarch and provider of their family with a sort of grace that no one– not even  _he_ – expected. He swallowed his  _panic_ to focus on helping Pietro every day, pushed aside his  _heart break_  so he could be strong when the pregnancy made Natalia emotional and fragile. Tony worked through his despair and made sure Wanda smiled as much as possible and every day he ignored the loneliness that lingered and focused instead on how much  _better_ life was in Italy. 

There were no soldiers hunting them down here, no reason to glance furtively over their shoulders as they went to shop, no need to over stock a pantry to ensure they survived a winter, no need to worry about hauling water when the pipes froze through, or trying to do hours and hours worth of chores.

Instead, Natalia and Wanda spent their days in the garden admiring the already planted and thriving blooms, and coaxing new ones to grow. Natalia took endless delight in the rose bushes while Wanda preferred the vines that crept up the walls and every day there were freshly clipped flowers in various vases scattered throughout the house.

By force of habit and maybe just to keep the loneliness away, everyone still gathered in the downstairs parlor at the end of the day. Wanda spent hours poring over the library upstairs before selecting a pile of novels to read aloud, and Natalia sat in her rocking chair and knitted blankets for the coming baby. Pietro still needed help changing bandages, so Tony would kneel at his side to unwrap the coverings and put ointment on the worst of the lingering burn damage as they listened to Wanda’s reading.

Sometimes Tony would work on James’s gun, taking advantage of being home in Italy again to order specific parts, even to fashion what he needed in the workshop down the hill from the house. The rifle was in better working condition now than it had ever been, beautifully polished, the intricate scroll work on the barrel repaired to perfection. Tony had reinforced the stock, shaved down the butt and replaced it with a softer, easier material that wouldn’t recoil so hard into James’s shoulder.

It was a masterpiece of a rifle and the only bit of  _James_ Tony had left. He had snatched it from the vault beneath the Falconers lodge along with their coin and pieces of Natalia’s jewelry, and left a note in its stead. The note was a reassurance that he and Natalia and the twins were all safe, and then coordinates and directions to the house in Chioggia just in case… 

_…just in case._

Refusing to dwell on the past for any longer than it took to clean James’s rifle in the evening, Tony turned his focus to the future– to  _their_ future.

He had more than enough money to be sure Natalia and the twins never worried for anything in their life. A few strong worded letters to the proper officials had ensured the marriage certificate from a year ago was correctly filed so there would be no question Natalia was his legal wife. Tony had also included provisions for any children conceived in their marriage to be heirs in part to his portion of the Carbonell Stark fortune. Unless Samuel and Ronin somehow made it home again, this baby would be the only child, but Tony put the provisions in anyway. 

_Just in case._

Next was paperwork concerning Wanda and Pietro, and  _that_ had taken several letters, nearly two months of waiting, and even a quick trip to Venice for Tony to press the issue in person but just this morning a messenger had come to the house with a packet of official documents. Tony read through them quickly and then locked him in his safe with a satisfied smile.

They would be alright. 

Things weren’t perfect and it hadn’t been anywhere close to enough time for their hearts to heal, but Tony was trying to take care of his family in every way he knew how and now– _now_ they would be alright.

*************

“Come along, beauty.” Wanda helped Natalia up from her chair at the lunch table to coax her outside for a few minutes. “The sun is beautiful today and the apple trees have blossomed. You need some fresh air and a little walk to lift your spirits. You’ve been quiet today and I don’t like it.”

“I am less worried about lifting my spirits than I am about getting freckles.” Natalia said dryly. “My skin cannot take all this sunshine.” 

And then as she smoothed her hand over the burgeoning swell beneath her dress– “And hefting  _this_ around. I’m starting to resemble a bear in the fall. Round and cranky–” Wanda burst into laughter and Natalia jabbed at her. “–and covered in hair! My hair is so thick lately I can’t hardly wash it!”

“I will help you wash your hair.” Wanda muffled another bit of laughter and wound her arm around Natalia’s waist. “And you do not look like a bear, not in the least. You are beautiful and if Samuel and Ronin were here they would–”

Wanda stopped mid sentence, and Natalia’s steps faltered, her eyes dimming in sadness. “–well, they would say the same thing. So come along. Outside to get a few more freckles and if your feet swell, I will even rub them for you.”

Natalia did breathe a sigh of relief when they stepped out into the sunshine, her full mouth curving into a smile. “Oh, it  _is_ lovely here. But you should be having more fun than escorting me around and offering to rub my feet. I heard Antonio offer to take you to  _Venezia_ again last night, why won’t you go?”

“Because I am needed here.” came the simple answer. “The gardens need tending and now that Antonio has let the other servants go, I am cooking for our family again. You will only need  _more_ help as the summer goes on and Pietro is doing much better this last month, but he is a long way from healed. And besides, what would I do for the Season in Venezia?”

“Wear beautiful gowns and hold entire harems of guileless young noblemen in your thrall.” Tony came out from the house behind them, bussing a kiss to Wanda’s cheek and smoothly extricating Natalia from the girl’s grasp so he could hold her. “Lounge around the town home while flowers are delivered and various Ladies of the Court beg for an invitation to tea. Wanda, you are a Carbonell Stark now. Italian society will be frothing at the bit to discover who you are.”

“Frothing at the bit?” Natalia echoed, turning her cheek for a kiss from Tony as well and leaning into his side. “Surely there’s a more polite way to describe the wealthy.”

“There really isn’t.” Tony directed the women towards one of the benches in the gardens. “You remember the Russian nobility, Natalia. Italians are every bit as wild. All the silk and lace and manners in the world cannot disguise the absolute  _rabid-ness_  that comes along with being wealthy. The rich are practically feral, but Wanda will take the Season by storm and be engaged and stolen away from us by next Spring all the same.”

“Heaven forbid.” Wanda snorted. “How can you describe the wealthy as rabid and feral and then in the next breath tell me I’ll be engaged?”

“Love works in mysterious ways, love.” Tony winked at her. “And if not love,  _money_ certainly does.”

“Hush.” Natalia smacked at Tony’s shoulder and adjusted her dress as she sat. “Don’t you dare encourage Wanda to marry for money. That is terrible advice. Wealthy men are barely leashed animals who would see Wanda as fresh meat and try to destroy her.”

“You are entirely correct, and I would never let her marry for money.” Tony said mildly. “Neither would I let anyone destroy her. The Carbonell Starks have far too much influence for anyone to risk our anger by being careless with Wanda. I might have been out of my element in Sokovia, but here in Italy there are very few people who won’t move aside when we walk into a room, do you understand? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I see.” Wanda reached for Natalia’s hand and squeezed it tight, chewing at her lip before asking timidly. “Antonio, does this mean we are  _officially_ family then? Pietro and I?”

“Yes, love.” Tony sat himself right next to Natalia and planted a soft kiss at her temple, smoothing away her hair. “Wanda and Pietro, Natalia and the little one. In every way that matters, you are  _la mia famiglia_  and are entitled to everything my name provides. Money, security, safety, all of it.”

“And your parents?” Wanda pressed. “How do they feel about it?”

“I don’t know.” Tony flattened his hand to the small of Natalia’s back and rubbed in slow circles. “I haven’t spoken to them since coming to Chioggia, and they have made no attempt to reach out to me. It doesn’t matter, though. I came into most of my wealth when I turned twenty five and will inherit everything from my Mama’s side in a few years when I am thirty. We will want for nothing, even if my Papa decides he is unhappy with my choices and withdraws the Stark wealth from our name.”

“But–”

“But both Mama and Papa will be thrilled.” Tony interrupted, waving off Wanda’s question. “I am home again, I have brought a wife to eliminate any lingering scandal. At the very least, adopting two Russian children will seem like an act of philanthropy and  _mio dio_  do the rich love to seem as if they are generous, and when they learn of their  _nipote_ –” he patted feather light at Natalia’s stomach. “–everyone is swayed by the thought of a new baby.”

“A  _nipote_.” Natalia repeated, turning the word over in her head and searching her limited Italian knowledge for the definition. “ _Nipote_ – grandchild? Antonio, you would lead your parents to assume the child is  _yours_?”

“ _Ours_.” Tony corrected, and Natalia’s eyes filled with relieved tears. “The  _bambina_ is ours, and no one will ever say different.”

“And if she looks like Samuel?” Wanda pointed out. “What then?”

“We will say she spends lots of time in the sunshine.” Tony said dryly, and Wanda snorted at his terrible attempt at a joke. “It won’t matter which of her father’s she takes after. She will have my name anyway.”

“You are a good man, Antonio.” Natalia sighed shakily. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to find Pietro and tell him the news.” Tony politely looked away as Natalia cried again, and when Wanda wrapped her in a hug, he slid off the bench to leave them in peace. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

He set off out of the garden and towards the very edges of the property, walking along the path that followed the line of the cliffs. 

Tony and his Mama had planted a flowering ash tree out here for his tenth birthday and a few summers later, Tony had made a beautifully carved wooden bench that sat beneath the wide stretched branches. It was a place of reflection and meditation and peace, and since coming to Chioggia, Pietro had claimed the spot as his own. 

Pietro walked to the isolated spot every morning and spent the hours staring out at the water. He could see the sails of the fishing boats dipping in the waves and just barely catch the larger merchant ships pulling into the port of Venice on the far end of the protected waters at the coast. It was peaceful and it was quiet, the sunshine gentle on his still healing skin and even though the family worried about Pietro, no one interrupted his routine or suggested that he spend more time at home.

_At least the ocean made him smile._

Wanda came with lunch every day and then again to call him for supper and on the days Natalia was feeling up to it, she walked the wide path to sit and carefully hold his hand.  

Pietro’s healing had been slow, painful,  _heartbreaking_ in a million different ways. The burns had almost ruined both vision and hearing on the left side of his face, traveling down his arm to render it almost useless so Pietro wore a sling and an eye patch every single day, full sleeves and trousers, and a hat tipped over his face to protect from the elements.

His voice was permanently hoarse, deeper than it had ever been because of the trauma to his throat and vocal cords, the sparkle gone from his eyes and his smile a rare sight. But he was  _alive_ , and every day he moved a little easier, spoke a little clearer and after two months in the ocean air and gentle sunshine, a full diet and plenty of sleep, it  _finally_ seemed that Pietro was making some progress.

Still. Tony would give almost anything to hear the boy laugh, really laugh, just  _once_. Just one more time.

“Pietro.” Tony sat on the boy’s good side and patted him on the knee gently. “How are you today?”

“Th’same as always, I suppose.” Pietro said slowly. “How are you?”

“Same as always.” Tony propped his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands beneath his chin. “I have good news though. I received the documents this morning that declare you and Wanda as my legal responsibility. Of course Natalia is already my wife, but I drew up documents for her child as well making sure you are all entitled to a share of my wealth.”

“Your legal responsibility.” Pietro stated. “Not your children.”

“You and your sister are less than ten years younger than I am.” Tony pointed out with a smile. “Which would make for some awkward questions, don’t you think? Italians are known for their virility, but  _that_ is too much, hm?”

Pietro didn’t answer and Tony cleared his throat, “And I– I didn’t want you to feel as if I was taking your name. You and Wanda are Maximoffs first, and Romanov’s second, and I won’t erase those to tack on my own moniker. It is easy for me to come home to Italy and forget most of Sokovia, but Sokovia was your entire world and you don’t have to–”

He blew out a breath, searching for the right words. “I’m saying this badly, so let me just tell you that your official name is Pietro Maximoff,  _dalla casa di Carbonell Stark_. You are Pietro Maximoff, of the house Carbonell-Stark. That is how you will be introduced, how you will be accepted into society, and the name that will ensure you have the coin to do whatever it is you wish, as well as to provide for a family of your own.”

“A family of my own.” Pietro’s mouth twisted into a faint, bitter, resemblance of his old smile. “I do not think you have to worry about that, Tony.”

“If or when the day comes.” Tony maintained. “You and those you love will be provided for.”

“The ones I love are here in Italia.” Pietro said flatly. “Everyone else is dust in Sokovia.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to comfort the boy when he felt much the same way. He never wanted to think James and Samuel and Ronin were  _gone_ but he couldn’t hope they were still alive without sacrificing his mental health, his emotional stability. Their family was hurt and ripped in half, the manor in ashes and their loved ones torn away, but Tony couldn’t think about it.

He had to be strong or Talia, for the new baby, for Wanda who had taken over so many responsibilities with a warm smile and willing spirit, and for Pietro who seemed fragile enough for a sea breeze to carry him away.

Tony had to be  _strong_ , so when Pietro went quiet again, he simply sat next to the young man and watched the sun move across the water.

“You…” The words came with difficulty, Pietro sounding close to tears when he spoke again. “You are different now. A year ago you didn’t care what happened to us. Now you are giving us your name?”

“A year ago we weren’t family.” Tony pointed out gently. “And now we are. It’s as simple as that, Pietro. If giving you my name means you and Wanda and Talia will always be taken care of, then that’s what I will do. We’re going to be alright, kiddo. I promise.”

Pietro flexed his damaged fingers and shook his head. “You are better at hiding your anger and your fear and your heartbreak now, but it is still obvious. We are  _never_ going to be alright again. And nothing–nothing is simple. Or people as smart as ourselves would have figured out a way for life to not hurt as much.

“…Pietro.”

“Ronin and Samuel always said I had to grow up sometime.” Pietro closed his good eye, a solitary tear slipping down his cheek. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

****************

“How is Pietro?” Natalia tipped her head forward so Tony could get to the buttons at the back of her neck, breathing out a sigh of relief as the dress loosened around her frame. “You were out there for a long time today.”

“I didn’t want to leave him alone.” Tony pushed the gown to the floor and helped Natalia step out of it, glancing away while she got into her robe. “I told him about the documents I had drawn up, told him that everything would be alright and he– he doesn’t really believe it.”

“I don’t think any of us believe it, not truly.” Natalia pulled the pins from her hair and grimaced when the red bulk fell in a tangled clump to her shoulders. “Antonio, I am chopping my hair off tomorrow, I am tired of this mess. In fact, hand me my shears and I’ll cut it off tonight. I would be beautiful with short hair.”

“You  _would_ be beautiful with short hair.” Tony pushed the scissors out of her reach with a patient smile. “But why don’t you let me try to comb it before you take it away, alright?”

Natalia muttered something Russian that was definitely a curse, but obediently sat when Tony pulled the chair from the vanity for her. “You have become quite the ladies maid, Antonio. Brushing my hair, helping Wanda in the kitchen, changing the linens for Pietro. Perhaps you were meant to be–”

“–that’s quite enough out of you.” Tony huffed and Natalia laughed at him. “Hold still, love. It has been a very long time since I combed anyone’s hair but my own and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No of course you don’t, you have been wonderful these past few months.” Natalia was prone to melancholy more and more these days, a hand resting listlessly on her belly and gaze far away. “I thought I was done mourning, you know. I’ve lost so much in my life, I thought losing James was inevitable, I thought losing Samuel and Ronin would be something I would survive. I had no idea how much more my heart could break. I had no idea I could mourn from my very soul. When does that go away?“

Tony’s hands stilled a moment as the all familiar  _anguish_ threatened to choke him, but he cleared his throat and went back to combing again before comforting, “Natalia. It has only been a few months. Time will heal us.”

“You’ve said that at least a thousand times since we came to Chioggia.” Natalia smiled wearily. “Time will heal us, the sunshine will chase our shadows away. Not so long ago you were practically furious because we teased you about being in love with James, now you are placating us with empty words. You are pretending  _again_ that you don’t love him, that you care for nothing in this world, that you aren’t hurting.”

“I’m pretending no such thing.” Tony said evenly. “But now I have a family to take care of, a wife to support and the twins to protect and a little one on the way. You were strong for me when I was on the verge of collapse, Natalia. Wanda and Pietro pushed past all of my irritability to make me laugh and to draw me into conversation. It’s my turn to be strong for you, to make Wanda smile and to encourage Pietro to talk.”

“I–” Tony swallowed, blinking back tears. “I miss James more than I thought I could miss anyone in my life. I miss him in a way that makes how I felt for Ty seem trite in comparison. Ty broke my heart and I left the country, but losing James–” he swallowed again. “I would wage war by myself to bring him home, to bring Samuel and Ronin back to your side. I would drag Brock Rumlow to the middle of a field and set him on fire if I thought it would help anything at all. And I would–”

“I did it.” Natalia blurted, and when Tony’s brow furrowed in confusion, she explained in halting words, “I did it. I–I killed Brock. I sent a message to have him brought the manor house and then I–”

“…Natalia?”

“I killed him.” she finished in a whisper. “I poured kerosene over him and set him on fire. Stood there until he stopped screaming and it wasn’t  _half_ what that man deserved. It smelled awful and it took so so long and I didn’t leave until it was done.” Natalia clenched her fists until her knuckles were blood white, her eyes wide and empty in the mirror. “Ashes to ashes.”

“Dust to dust.” Tony rested his forehead against Natalia’s hair, hiding the horror in his expression. “Oh, Talia.”

“I’m not sorry.” she whispered. “And I don’t have nightmares about it. Tell me Antonio, is that awful? Am I wicked? My child will not have her father’s but neither will she grow up in a world where their murderer walks free. I cannot be sorry for that, does that make me wicked?”

Natalia sat with tears slipping down her face, and Tony didn’t know what to say, so he just kept combing her hair.

Everything would be alright.

Somehow… everything would be alright.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love this particular version of Maria I’ve introduced here and feel like she might make an appearance in future fic. Holla for strong women in Tony’s life, right?

Maria and Howard Stark came to Chioggia when the late spring winds were giving way to the temperate days of early summer, arriving in their carriage alongside Jarvis and Ana.

Tony came down the front steps to greet them, shaking Jarvis’s hand and allowing Ana to drag him down into a hug, only _ooph_ ing mildly when she pinched him in the side and hissed, “I should hang you by that ridiculous hair, worrying me like this! And entire year? A  _year_! How dare you!”

“Ana,  _amore mia_.” Jarvis sighed and pulled the woman away. “Let Antonio see his family before you thrash him.”

“I’ve missed you.” Tony blew a kiss to the hilariously fierce woman and laughed when she only huffed and turned her nose up as if angry. Ana would never hold a grudge, she loved Tony just as much as Jarvis did, just as much as Howard and Maria—

“ _Papa_.” Tony straightened up when his father stepped from the carriage. Howard Stark was larger than life, colder than ice, calculating and demanding and Tony steeled himself to hear Howard’s irritation or annoyance or even the casually cutting  _disdain_ his Papa had perfected over the years.

Tony steeled himself, but he never could have been ready to see tears in Howard’s eyes, nor could he have  _ever_ been ready to be grabbed up tight in a crushing hug and to hear his Papa’s voice break as Howard whispered, “My boy,  _pensavo di averti perso_. I thought I lost you, I thought I  _lost_ you–”

“Move!  _Levati de mezzo_! Move and let me hug him!” Maria shouted from the carriage and shoved at her husband until Howard moved enough for her to throw her arms around Tony as well, squeezing her son into a stranglehold and crying nearly hysterical into his ear. “ _Mio figlio_ , I’ve missed you, you finally came home, Antonio, Antonio you finally came home!”

“Mama.” Tony held his Mama tight and then took a deep breath and reached for Howard too. “Papa, I– I’m sorry, I–”

“No no no.” Displaying a flash of that wonderful Carbonell temper, Maria shook her head violently and held Tony all the closer. “No, Antonio. You will  _not_ apologize. Broken hearts–”

“–make strangers of us all.” Howard finished and Tony clenched his jaw to muffle a sob when his Papa whispered. “And I’m sorry we did not recognize you when you were hurting,  _mio figlio_ , my son. I am  _sorry_.”

“Antonio?” Wanda came to the doorway and stopped in surprise when she saw the extra people. “Oh Jarvis! Ben– _benvenuto_. We weren’t expecting visitors today!”  

“Oh!” Ana broke into smiles and rushed up the steps to hug Wanda. “Oh hello! Listen to you learning Italian _, è meraviglioso_ , that is wonderful! I can imagine it’s much different than your Russian, hm?”

“I–” Wanda laughed a little as she hugged Ana back. “I am trying with my Italian, yes, thank you. And you must be Ana?”

“Yes, I am Ana and you!” Ana took both of Wanda’s hands and held them outspread, eyeing Wanda’s midsection approvingly. “I think perhaps  _mio marito_  exaggerated how far along you are! Jarvis assured me you were beautifully  _incinta_ but there is not even a bump to be seen! You don’t look as if you are expecting at all!”

“Oh!” Wanda’s eyes went comically wide as she stared at Jarvis over Ana’s head. “Oh my– no no no, I am  _not_ –”

“Ana.” Tony disentangled himself from his parents, though he kept his hold on Maria’s hand and brought her over to Wanda. “No, Ana. This is not my wife. This is Wanda Maximoff,  _dalla familia_  Romanov. Mine and Natalia’s ward.”

“What?!” Ana whirled around and pointed a finger at Jarvis. “ _You_ told me Antonio’s wife had red hair and was stunningly beautiful! Surely there aren’t two women in this household that look–”  

She stopped talking abruptly when Natalia appeared in the doorway, red hair swept into a loose comb, beautiful features curious, one hand resting on the swell of her  _distinctly_ pregnant frame. “Antonio? Will you introduce me?”

“Oh.” Ana breathed, a sentiment echoed by both Howard and Maria. “Oh my. She is lovely.”

“Mama and Papa.” Tony kissed Maria’s knuckles, then let her hand go so he could reach for Natalia and walk her down the steps. “Ana. May I present my wife, the Lady Natalia Romanova, now Carbonell Stark. My love, this is my parents,  _Marchese_ Howard Eduardo–”

“Enough with the titles, we are family.” Maria insisted, holding out her hands for Natalia and drawing her close to dot kisses on each of her cheeks.. “Natalia,  _benvenuto in Italia_ , welcome to Italy and welcome to our family. You must call me Maria, and here is my husband, Howard. We are so happy–” Maria’s eyes filled with tears again as she placed a tentative palm on Natalia’s stomach. “Oh, we are so very happy to finally meet you!”

“Mama.” Tony said gently, winking at Natalia when she turned wide eyes in his direction. “ _Per favore_ , come inside the house. Ana, if you don’t mind helping Wanda with the tea, I will go and get Pietro.”

“Ah!” Ana scoffed. “He thinks I am still his maid, his nanny! Where are the servants?”

“Antonio does not keep servants.” Jarvis reminded her, offering one arm to his wife and another to Wanda. “Apparently our boy does his own chores these days.”

Ana and Maria bust into startled laughter as if the idea of Tony doing  _anything_ for himself was hysterical, and Tony only rolled his eyes and urged Natalia up the stairs again and into the parlor.

“No wonder you didn’t know how to chore, Antonio!” Wanda called teasingly. “Ana tells me you didn’t so much as feed yourself when you were growing up!”

“Ana’s memory must be failing her!” Tony called back. “I distinctly remember having to fight her for the last brownie after luncheons! I certainly fed myself then!”

In the kitchen, Ana and Wanda dissolved into giggles and Maria was laughing as well as she came up to link Natalia’s arm with her own, shooing Tony away. “Antonio, give me and Natalia a moment, go with your Papa to find Peter.”

“Pietro, Mama.” Tony corrected and Maria nodded, “Right, of course.  _Pietro_. Go and find Pietro with your Papa and Antonio–”

Tony paused partway out the door when Maria sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “My little love. Come back quickly? I don’t want to be apart from you for too long.”

“I’ll be right back.” Tony promised, and kissed Maria’s forehead, then bent to do the same for Natalia. “Only a few minutes.”

“While the ladies are preparing tea, I will put our bags in the bedrooms.” Jarvis said helpfully, inclining his head towards Howard when Tony turned to him, ready to insist the butler come along as well. “It will not take three of us to fetch Master Pietro. Go on.”

Tony and Howard disappeared out towards the gardens and the sea, and Maria turned back to Natalia with a tremulous smile. “You must think I’m ridiculous, missing Antonio even though he is still on the property, only walking away for a minute or two.”

“No.” Natalia shook her head and tried to sound soothing. “No no, of course not. I cannot imagine missing Wanda or Pietro for a year and then having them back, only to watch them disappear out the door again. And certainly can’t imagine it with this one.” she patted her stomach, and Maria’s expression sharpened in curiosity. “I’m sure Antonio wants to be close to you as well. It is not ridiculous at all.”

“Perhaps you can tell if something  _else_ is ridiculous, then.” Maria straightened in the chair and pinned her with a  _look_ that made Natalia automatically straighten as well, her green eyes narrowing at the sudden change in the  _Marchesa_.

A quick glance at the kitchen to be sure neither Wanda nor Ana were hovering in the door to listen, Natalia arched her eyebrow and motioned for Maria to proceed.

“Lady Romanova.” Maria began slowly. “I am thrilled Antonio has taken a wife, found a family of his own and of course, I am over the moon with happiness that he has finally come home again. But I know my child very well, and I know the baby you are carrying is  _not_ Antonio’s.”

Natalia’s bland expression didn’t so much as flicker as she answered, “The child is Antonio’s in every way that matters, and there is papers filed with the magistrate to that effect.”

“I don’t care about papers.” Maria stated flatly. “I am a  _Carbonell_ , Lady Romanova. In this part of the world, my family’s wishes are law. My husband likes to think the name Stark carries all the power but you would be wiser to fear  _my_ wrath. I know you took my Antonio away from the masquerade ball while he was vulnerable and heart broken, and if he wishes to claim this child as his own than I will welcome  _la bambina_  with open arms and spoil her absolutely rotten and enjoy every moment.”

Natalia opened her mouth to reply but Maria cut her off. “But be well aware, my dear. If you are going to mistreat Antonio’s heart, not even the Siberian winter will protect you from me, do you understand? It never bothered me that he loved a man, it will not bother me if he loves you as well. I will love this grandbaby whether she is obviously Antonio’s child or obviously someone else’s. But I will  _not_ tolerate anyone daring to break Antonio’s heart again.”

Maria leaned closer and murmured, “The last person to try and hurt my family suffered a terrible, terrible accident and is hardly ever seen in polite society anymore. I’d hate for that to be the case with you, especially since you are so very lovely.”

“Was the man Tiberius?” Natalia challenged, and Maria looked mildly impressed that she knew the name. “Or someone else who hurt your family?”

“Someone else.” Maria allowed, studying her nails in a show of faux boredom. “It has been many years since I’ve had to reach out and correct an injustice towards the Carbonell name, but that does not mean I am out of practice,  _capisci_?”

“ _Capisco_.” Natalia returned evenly. “I understand.”

“Have you ever lost anyone, Natalia?” Maria asked then. “Do you know the pain of thinking you will never see someone again? Because I have lived that every day of the last year, every morning wondering if that was the day I’d learn Antonio was never coming back. You understand that I am wary of the person who took him away, and why I would do anything to be sure he is safe now.”

“I understand.” Natalia said again, and then with an edge of steel in her words, “I know the pain of loss and the uncertainty that comes along with it. I know how far we are tempted to go to protect those we love, and even hell burns less intense than the wrath of a woman defending her family.”

“You talk of flames as if you know them well.” Maria challenged and Natalia retorted, “The last person to take part of my family away from me is ash in a field right now. I doused him in kerosene and watched him melt to nothing but bones. A kinder death than he deserved to be sure. I know flames well and have felt the burns myself. Do not talk to me of anger and loss and the need to protect.”

“Who did Antonio lose?” Maria changed the subject abruptly. “Who did he love and lose there in Sokovia? He is emptier now than he was after Ty, I can see it in his eyes. Who was it?”

“…my brother.” Natalia whispered, and for the first time since beginning the discussion, Maria’s lips turned down in sadness. “Antonio and I are married, but it is nothing but convenience and necessity. My heart is taken by others, and his belongs to…to my brother.”

Maria closed her eyes and Natalia couldn’t keep the pain from her voice as she finished, “I lost my loves, my brother, my home, and Antonio lost  _James_. The twins lost Ronin and Samuel, who were father figures after their own parents were killed in the revolution. The three of us–”

She cleared her throat and corrected, “–the  _four_ of us lost far too many loved ones already. My Lady Carbonell Stark, I can assure you, losing anyone else might actually end me. What is left of my heart rests with Antonio and the twin and this child. What is left of his?” Natalia shrugged. “Will never be further hurt because of me.”

Maria was quiet only a few seconds, then she reached for Natalia’s hand with both of hers and clasped it gently. “You are welcome here, Natalia. I would apologize for what I said but I think you would say much the same thing in my position.”

“No apology is necessary, My Lady.” Natalia assured her. “I didn’t expect that particular speech from a woman such as yourself but people do not expect what they find from me either. I would have said all that and more, and ended the conversation with a knife on the table.”

“Ah.” Maria twitched aside her full skirt, revealing not only a rather risque split hem, but also the dagger strapped to her thigh. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show anyone that.”

Natalia couldn’t help a smile, and lifted her own skirts to her just above her ankle to show Maria her own knife.

“And your girl, Wanda?” Maria pressed.

“She keeps one here.” Natalia tapped at the underside of her own wrist. “It is on a light spring and the cuff on all her gowns keeps it still. She unsnaps the cuff and the dagger moves forward, she takes the leather edge off the blade and plunges it into a man’s heart.”

“Ah, very good!” Maria’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands in delight. “One day perhaps after we know each other a little better, I’ll have to tell you about my sister Margaret. She was a spy, you know. Before Antonio came along she used to sneak me out in the middle of the night to go on adventures!”

“My Lady Carbonell Stark.” Natalia said with a quiet laugh. “Once you and I know each other better, I will have  _plenty_ to share with you as well.”

“I already know more than you think, Black Widow.” Maria said just as quietly, but when Natalia’s eyes widened in a hint of panic, the woman was quick to finish, “But I look forward to hearing your stories all the same. I am happy the life of my son and my new  _grandchild_ –” she emphasized the word and Natalia’s shoulders sagged in relief. “–is in such capable hands.”

“You are not what I expected.” Natalia admitted as Wanda and Ana finally came in with tea. “But I think I am relieved anyway.”

“Hello again!” Ana set the tray of tea down with a flourish, then reached into her bodice and pulled out a flask. “I suppose this sort of discussion requires more than tea, don’t you think? Have we discussed knives and dead bodies yet?”

“We have.” Maria said smoothly, once again the picture of a perfectly proper noblewoman as she poured the tea. “Now we must chat about  _bambine_ and all the beautiful things we will purchase for the little one.”

“Dead bodies?” Wanda asked anxiously and Ana waved off her concerns with a light hearted, “Plenty of time for all that later, lovely. Maria and I and our friend Peggy raised the same sort of hell I’m sure you and your friends raise together!”

“Um–” Wanda’s pretty mouth fell open into an ‘o’. “I don’t think–”

“Ana, don’t scare the girl!” Maria scolded, taking the flask and dumping a healthy amount in her tea. “There will be time for family secrets later. Now let’s talk lace and ruffles for my new granddaughter.”

“You think it will be a girl too?” Natalia laughed softly and accepted a very very small amount from the flask in her tea as well. “Antonio is convinced.”

“The child is a girl.” Maria declared. “She must be. The Carbonell title is passed down  _dalle donne_ , from the matriarchs and I fully intend to give my granddaughter every penny of my money! The men can fuss if they want to!”

The women all laughed together and as Jarvis passed on his way to the kitchen, he smiled to himself over the noise. It was good to hear laughter in the Chioggia house again.

He could only hope Howard and Tony were getting along half as well.

****************

“I didn’t know the tree was still here.” Howard commented as he walked alongside Tony to find Pietro. “The bench you made as well?”

“When was the last time you were at Chioggia, Papa?” Tony picked up a pebble and tossed it over the side of the bluffs. “The bench is there, the tree is beautiful and flowering. It is lovely here.”

“This is a Carbonell property.” Howard reminded him. “Unless you and your Mama were here, I had no reason to come.” and then after another moment, “And I am sorry it took me so long to visit now. Three months we’ve known you were home and I found a thousand things to do in my work shop instead. Stark men, we– we are not good at dealing with  _emozioni_ and I am worse than most. Your Mama begged me to come, threatened to come alone– I am sorry it took us so long, Antonio.”

“…I am not sure who you are, or what you have done with my Papa…” Tony began and Howard laughed at him. “But I do not understand how the same man who told me to find  _una puttana_  and take a bottle of wine and forget Ty, is the same man apologizing for waiting to come see me.”

“Broken hearts make strangers of us all.” Howard said slowly,  _sadly_. “I assumed you would treat heartbreak as I did– drown it in a bottle and a willing body. I never thought you were so badly hurt to run away. Never thought I would spend a year wondering if my boy was gone and I wouldn’t have the chance to lay him to rest.”

The  _Marchese_ blew out a noisy breath. “I promised myself and your Mama that if you came home, I would be different.”

“A leopard cannot change it’s spots, Papa.” 

“But it  _can_ be domesticated, Antonio.” 

Tony sent a sidelong glance towards his father. “I am glad you have come to understand why I left, but you do not need to–”

“When it became obvious you were not coming home, I eliminated Tiberius from my business dealings.” Howard interrupted. “I could not stomach looking at him, knowing I had failed to listen to you, failed to–to protect you. If you bring  _la tua famiglia_  to Brescia, you will not find Tiberius at our dinner parties or day events. He has no part of our life, nor my business, you will never have to see him unless you seek him out yourself.”

“…thank you, Papa.”

“Your wife.” Howard cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Natalia. She is exquisite. I can see why you are taken with her. And a grandchild on the way? Your Mama is beside herself with excitement. I’m sure they are talking lace and doilies this very moment.”

“I’m sure.” Tony smiled to himself, thinking of his sweetly soft spoken Mama gushing over baby clothing. “Mama is so gentle, so happy with a  _bambina_ in her arms.”

“Gentle.” Howard smiled too, for an entirely different reason. “Uh yes, your mama  _is_ gentle. I’m sure she and your Natalia will be very good friends.”

“Ah.” Tony said a silent prayer that his Mama never found out about Natalia’s past. “I’m sure.”

“I’ve missed you,  _mio figlio_.” Howard said then and Tony’s breath caught over a rush of emotion. “I am glad you are home.”

“I– I’ve missed you too, Papa.”

“Then that is enough emotion for now?” Howard raised his eyebrows and Tony laughed. “Stark men are iron men, we are not used to all this.”

“No, no we are not.” Tony pointed ahead, then put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply so Pietro would know they were coming. “Enough emotion, enough said for now. Come and meet Pietro.”

If Howard was shocked by Pietro’s bandages he didn’t show it, the formidable man for once tempering his own curiosity and usual brusqueness so he could sit on Pietro’s good side and offer him a smile, forgoing a handshake and instead putting his hand over his heart and inclining his head in a respectful greeting, telling Pietro, “ _Benvenuto_ , Pietro Maximoff. You are welcome here and to our family.”

Pietro dipped his head as well he could and answered, “Thank you, but it is Pietro Maximoff  _della casa di Carbonell Stark_.”

“Of course.” Howard didn’t miss a beat, and if anything his smile grew. “Pietro Maximoff, of the house Carbonell Stark.  _Benvenuto, mio figlio_.”

Tony watched his father being kinder than he’d ever been when Tony had lived at home, watched Pietro smile for the first time in a long time as Howard addressed him as a Carbonell Stark, and put a hand to his heart when Howard helped Pietro to his feet and suggested they “find the rest of our family and see about supper together.”

Tony hadn’t really believed it until right now–

But they really were going to be alright.


	26. Chapter 26

“ _Patatina_!” Tony stepped from the house and into the gardens, clapping his hands a few times. “Where are you, beauty?”

“Antonio!” Natalia looked up from her roses and laughed. “Do not call my daughter a potato! How is that sweet at all?”

“Hush, my Mama called me her little potato every day until I was half grown.” Tony retorted and clapped his hands again. “Morgan Alianova! Where are you?”

“Here we are.” Pietro came from behind the hedges, steps slow and purposeful, hoarse voice softer than usual, his gaze focused on the little girl holding on to two of his fingers and toddling along beside him. “Tell your Tonio that little legs walk very slowly, and calling us  _potato_ won’t bring us along any faster.”

“Pet-pet.” Morgan was Samuel’s child, but she had Natalia’s green eyes and a smile to rival Tony’s, stubbornness that reminded them every day of Ronin, Wanda’s sweet spirit, a temper that would shock even James, and ever since her arrival the previous August, the child had had Pietro wrapped right around her little finger.

“Pet-pet.” she said again and Pietro nearly  _melted_. The words were most likely random babbling, but Pietro was sure Morgan was trying to say his name. “Up.”

Pietro picked Morgan up without hesitating, hiding the grimace from his injured arm pulling under the baby’s weight and leaned in to bump noses with Morgan. “Let’s go see your Tonio.”

“Ah, there’s my potato bug.” Tony held out his arms for Morgan and once Pietro was close enough, Tony took her cuddled her close. “Come along, tiny love. I have sweet things for you to eat before dinner.”

“Wanda?” Natalia raised her voice in clear disapproval and Wanda poked her head out of the kitchen window to smile at her. “Are you giving Morgan sweets before dinner? You will spoil her!”

“No! I would never!” Wanda denied immediately, and then amended, “Well I am making pastries and thought our  _patatina_ would enjoy a taste? Surely that’s not terrible, Talia, you are being too strict again. Antonio, hand her here so she can have some. A little sweetness will not do any harm.”

Wanda tore off a piece of fresh pastry and held it out the window, and Morgan clapped her hands in excitement as Tony held her up high enough for Wanda to pop it in her mouth.

“There has to be cuter names for a child than little potato.” Natalia sighed. “But Antonio has been calling her  _patatina_ since she was born, I suppose it’s too late to change it now.”  

Piero chuckled quietly and bent to wipe a smudge of dirt from Natalia’s forehead before settling gingerly onto a close by bench. “Tony calls her little potato because she is sweet and round. Tis no different than you calling her little kitten. So long as the words are said in love, what does it matter?”

“No one  _eats_ kittens.” Natalia retorted and Pietro countered, “But we have each said at least a thousand times that Morgan is so sweet we could eat her up…”

“Fine fine fine.” Talia relented, sitting up and stretching to relieve the twinge in her back. “But if she grows up to tell other people her name is  _potato_ I will have to have  _words_ with Antonio.”

Pietro smiled again, and held out his good arm for Morgan when Tony came back with the baby, wiping away pastry crumbs from  Morgan’s cheeks and taking her right back to the other side of the garden where they had been sitting beneath a fruit tree and plucking flowers.

“Her laugh is like sunshine.” Tony commented as Pietro disappeared with the toddler. He had a piece of pastry for himself and one for Natalia as well, and Natalia dusted her hands off before taking it. “I think the birds sing and clouds part when she smiles.”

“I think having Morgan around has made you poetic and ridiculous.” Natalia made an agreeable noise when she tasted the pastry. “But I agree. She has chased the shadows away from our life, hasn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tony broke off another piece of the sweet treat and offered it over. “Mama sent a message to say they are coming at the end of the month. She has piles of new clothes for Morgan and something for you as well. I’m glad you and Mama are so close Talia, but I can’t imagine what you have in common.”

“No.” Natalia hid a smile. “No, I don’t suppose you  _would_ imagine what we have in common. I’m sure it’s only Morgan that has brought us so close.” Tony shrugged and pushed the rest of his pastry into her hand. “No Antonio. No more sweets!” Natalia put a hand to her stomach and shook her head. “I will never be slim again if I keep eating everything Wanda bakes!”

“You are more beautiful now than you were the night I met you.” Tony said truthfully, brushing his knuckles over Natalia’s cheek and blatantly admiring the way she filled out her gown. Her collarbones didn’t stand out beneath her skin anymore and after a year and a half eating Italian fare, Natalia’s curves were soft and  _full_ , and even though she no longer wore elaborate hairstyles or fancy gowns, Tony was  _sure_ Natalia had never been so lovely.

“Having Morgan erased your hard edges.” he murmured. “And now you look like an angel.”  

“I think those words would mean more if they were said by a man with a vested interest in seeing me undressed.” Natalia teased. “But thank you all the same, Antonio. What are you working on today, has  _Signore_ Beretta come along with another plea for you to work for him?”

“He has.” Tony clipped a particularly red bloom and placed it in Natalia’s basket for the house. “But I turned him away. I don’t want to work in Brescia when my family is here in Chioggia. I told him he could send me special pieces to repair but that I would not be returning to the main estate.”

“You are happy with your own work space?” Natalia inclined her head down to the storage shed Tony had converted into a shop. “Even though you don’t have much room?”

“It’s not as if we need the money.” Tony countered. “The shop is only to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. There is no reason for me to travel for work, and I don’t like being away from you anyway.”

“A workshop in Chioggia is a far cry from being a Prince of Brescia.”

“And I am a far cry from the man I used to be.”

Natalia’s lips lifted in a smile. “And we are all so grateful.”

“I love you, Talia.” Tony kissed her cheek and stood up again. “But I do have something to finish for  _Signore_ Beretta so I have to leave you to your roses.”

“I’ll find you for supper.” Natalia promised and waved him away, going back to her gardening with a contented sigh.

The past year had been one of change and adjustment, of making room for a little one in their lives and learning to trust each other in new ways and to trust  _others_ in ways no one expected.

Howard and Maria came by often, making the journey from Brescia at least once a month and while it had been a challenge for Tony to accept his father’s newly changed personality, and a surprise for Natalia to be around so  _happy_ a family, every visit brought more and more smiles. 

Howard and Tony had began working on small projects in the workshop, spending more time together now than they had in Tony’s entire life. Tony had began opening up to his Papa, even laughing together as they worked and when they were late for supper because they were distracted by a project, neither Maria nor Natalia could manage to be upset. 

Maria’s extraordinary and mostly  _secret_ past bound her and Natalia together through shared experiences and the million quiet ways they protected their families every day. When Morgan was born, Maria moved into the house for several weeks to help with the cooking and cleaning and to trade shifts with Wanda and Natalia so they all managed to get enough sleep. Natalia’s constant worries about her baby’s safety were quieted because Wanda would never let anyone hurt Morgan, and Maria would simply  _kill_ anyone who tried, and the relief made those first weeks of motherhood much easier. 

Ana and Jarvis came around even more often than Howard and Maria. Ana taught Wanda to cook traditional Italian dishes and was more than happy to watch Morgan all day so Natalia and Wanda could take extra long baths or spend time on their sewing. Jarvis spent days working with Pietro to help the boy regain more muscle use and flexibility, accompanying him on walks and playing catch since the simple act of tossing and catching improved Pietro’s limited hand eye coordination.

When Morgan turned a year old, they held a party. Wanda made cake and both sets of Grandparents– Ana insisted on being called  _Grammy_ if Maria was called  _Nonni_ – spoiled the girl absolutely rotten while Tony stood at the door of the parlor and held Natalia as she cried, soothing her with gentle words, blinking back his own tears.

Natalia cried because she had never  _once_ in her entire life thought to have a moment where her baby played in a room full of family, a room full of people who loved her to heaven and back.

Tony cried because the room was so full and yet seemed so empty all at the same time. Morgan signed ‘ _thank you_ ’ to Howard because Natalia had wanted her to learn a little bit of sign language, and it made Ronin’s absence all the more palpable. Jarvis laughing when Pietro insisted Morgan looked like him  _hurt_ because Morgan looked more like Samuel every day and Samuel wasn’t there to see it.

“James would love her.” Natalia whispered that day. “She has our Ma’s family name  _Alianova_ and he would love her for it.”

“James would love her for a thousand different reasons.” Tony had countered, and Natalia only cried harder.

Word had come weeks ago of the end of war in Sokovia. The Tsar had officially washed his hands of the entire mess, withdrew his soldiers and emptied the prisons of Sokovian rebels. The revolution had existed for decades, cost thousands of lives and exhausted the supplies of an empire already stretched too far, and the Tsar had finally had  _enough_.

_If Sokovia does not want to be Russian, let them fend for themselves._

“We are free.” Wanda whispered as she read the message. “It’s over. The prisoners are freed and the Tsar’s men are gone. Natalia, this means our soldiers could still come–”

“ _Don’t_.” Natalia hadn’t wanted to hear what Wanda would say, she had even looked away from the  _hope_ in Pietro’s gaze. “ _No_. This is our life and this is our home and we left everything behind. Don’t say– don’t make me hope– I can’t bear it.”

Tony had agreed and they let the topic drop, but Natalia knew Wanda and Pietro whispered about it in the kitchen and she knew Tony had taken James’s rifle from above the door of his workshop and sat with it in his hands for a long,  _long_ time.

They all  _hoped_ , even Natalia  _hoped_ right now as she pulled weeds from the base of the rose bush. She hoped and she prayed and she  _wanted_ but Natalia had lived too difficult a life and known too much loss to think there was ever actually a chance–

“Da Da Da Da Da.” Morgan chattered as she came around the hedges and Natalia wiped away her tears before the baby saw, cursing herself for letting her mind wander, angry that she’d given in and let herself think too long about who was missing from their family.

She missed Ronin and Samuel and she missed her brother and nothing about Sokovia had been safe but at least they had been  _together_ and now–

“Da Da Da Da Da.” Morgan said again and Natalia turned with a ready smile and arms outstretched to take her from Pietro.

“Morgan, come here tiny love, come to Mama.”

But Morgan wasn’t looking at her, and she wasn’t holding Pietro’s hand and this time when Morgan asked, “Da Da?”  _Samuel_ answered hoarsely, ”Yeah sweetheart, your Da Da finally made it home.”

 _Samuel_.

“Hello, my love.” Samuel whispered, and when Natalia tried to get to her feet, Samuel fell to his knees instead, crushing her to his chest with one arm and holding onto Morgan as tight as he dared with the other. 

“Samuel.” Natalia could barely get the word out, could barely breathe. “You’re home? You– my love, you came home, you came–you found us–“

“I’m home, Talia.” Samuel repeated over and over, smoothing his hand over Natalia’s hair and down her back. “We made it home.”

Pietro stood behind them with a hand over his mouth and tears tracking down his cheeks, but when Wanda  _screamed_ from inside the house he turned and ran as fast as he could to the kitchen, limping up the stairs and cursing that he couldn’t move any faster.

“Wanda?” He called anxiously. “Wanda are you alright? You need to come outside and see–” Pietro stopped in his tracks when he saw  _Ronin_ in the kitchen, the archer holding Wanda as she sobbed into his shoulder. “R-Ronin?”

 _Here_. Ronin signed clumsily, holding onto Wanda and reaching out for Pietro. “Come here, son.” 

“Ronin.” Pietro stumbled forward and fell into the hug. “What–how– you’re home? You’re home?  _How_?”

“There’s time for questions later.” Wanda shook her head, trying and failing to check her tears. “It doesn’t matter  _how_. I only care that we are together again.”

Natalia had barely managed to get to her feet with Samuel’s help when Ronin came out into the garden with Wanda and Pietro on either side, and she would have collapsed right there if Samuel wouldn’t have caught her.

“ _Ronin_!”

Ronin dropped the twins hands and went running for Natalia, scooping her up into his arms and twirling her around. “Ronin, you came home–” The archer set Natalia back on the ground and covered her mouth in a long awaited kiss. “How are you home? How did you make it–” 

“Da Da?” A quiet voice, and Ronin froze, tipping his head so he could hear better. “Da Da?”

Samuel came closer holding Morgan, and Ronin looked between the baby and Natalia in shock, then down to spread his fingers over Talia’s stomach. “We– we have a  _baby_? 

Natalia wiped at her tears and reached for Morgan and kissed her cheek before passing her to Ronin and stepping back into Samuel’s arms. “She is just over a year old now. I learned I was pregnant just after we were all in Kiev together.” 

“She looks like me.” Samuel said in awe and Wanda giggled, “Tony tells people we leave Morgan in the sun too long, and that’s why she doesn’t look like him!” 

Samuel grinned and Ronin snuggled the baby closer, closing his eyes as Morgan’s chubby fingers touched at the scar that split his cheek. “Hello, little love. You don’t know me yet but you will. I’m your Papa.” 

“Pop.” Morgan broke into a grin and mimed the sign for  _father_ over and over. “Pop Pop Pop Pop.” and then over at Samuel. “Da Da Da Da Da.”

“I wanted her to know both of you.” Natalia kept wiping her tears away until Samuel just bent and kissed them away. “Both her Da’s, whether you were here or not.”

“Well, we’re here now.” Samuel pressed another kiss to Natalia’s forehead, then leaned over to smoosh a kiss to Morgan’s cheek as well, letting the baby grab at his finger as he went. “We’re both here, little one. Both your Da’s.”

“Oh– oh wait.” Wanda held Pietro’s hand tight as they came down the stairs. “What about James?” 

Natalia’s eyes went very wide and very afraid, but Ronin soothed her, “James is fine, he came home with us too.” 

“Well then where is he?” 

“Exactly where he belongs.” Samuel took Morgan back so Ronin could hold Natalia again, but then he reached for Pietro as well and pulled the boy into a gentle hug. “James went to find Tony.” 

***************

Tony could not hear anything from the house in his workshop at the bottom of the hill. There were bells all around the Chioggia property in case there was an emergency and Tony was needed immediately– Wanda had one in the kitchen, there was one at each side of the garden, another hanging in the tree by the water where Pietro sat and one hooked to the balcony of the master bedroom.

Since Morgan had been born, the bells only rang if Wanda was calling him for supper or if Tony had gotten distracted working and his parents or Ana and Jarvis had arrived for a visit. They had yet to be rang in any sort of emergency, so when the bell in the kitchen and one in the garden started ringing,  _clanging_ , over and over in a panicked rhythm, Tony about jumped out of his skin.

He hadn’t heard Wanda’s scream when Ronin had found her, nor had he heard the shouts from the garden as their little family welcomed Samuel and Ronin home again, so Tony didn’t realize anything was amiss until the air split with ringing.

His heart in his throat, Tony set aside the revolver he’d been cleaning and knocked his stool over as he scrambled to get moving, to run out the door, to check and see what the  _hell_ was happening to his family.

“I’m coming!” he shouted even though he knew they couldn’t hear him. “Talia, Wanda, I’m coming! Hold on! Hold–”

There was a man in Tony’s doorway, tall and broad, long hair and a nearly grown out beard, ice blue eyes and an empty, pinned up sleeve on the left side of his body and Tony stopped mid step and  _stared_ , whatever he was going to say falling away in a wash of disbelief.

“Dunno why you look so surprised.” The voice was deeper than Tony remembered, or maybe time and distance had twisted the memories, but it was still familiar enough to nearly send Tony to his knees right there on the workshop floor. 

And the smile,  _dio mio_ the  _smile_ was the same and the cocky tilt to his head and the way the words sounded teasing or perhaps even challenging but were full of hope and longing and  _love_.

“– I told you I’d cross a thousand mountains to find you.”

“James.”

His soldier smiled again, exhausted and weary and thin, but still every inch the man Tony had watched ride away on Zima’s back almost two years ago now.

“…Samuel and Ronin?”

“Prob’ly got their arms around Talia and the twins and aren’t lettin’ go anytime soon.”

“…Right.” Tony folded his arms and then unfolded them, scuffed his feet on the floor and told himself not to stare but he couldn’t stop staring. “How– how did you find us?”

“War ended.” James kept his eyes on Tony, drinking in the long lines of his frame, the way Tony’s skin had turned golden in the summer sun, the tremulous smile tipping Tony’s mouth up at the corners. “We came home to the manor, found the safe beneath where the Falconers Lodge. You left us money, guns, directions to get us home. Nothin’ was gonna stop us from finding you all again.”

“James.” Tony’s voice finally broke, caught. “James, I–”

James muttered something harsh in Sokovian and closed the distance between them in two big steps, wrapping his good arm around Tony’s waist and hauling him in to crush their mouths together.  “I missed you, Tony,  _dorogoi_. I  _missed_ you.”

“I can’t believe you’re home again.” Tony kissed James over and over, tasting the tears that overflowed and spilled down their faces. “You came home again.”  

“With you I am warm, as if winter has left my soul.” James said hoarsely, clutching at Tony’s waist hard enough to bruise, breaking the kiss to tuck his head to Tony’s shoulder, mouthing over the curve of Tony’s throat and shuddering through a body racking sigh. “A thousand mountains to find you, Tony. I crossed them  _all_ to find you.”

****************

****************

The evening found the entire family together in the parlor like they’d done so many times at home in Sokovia.

Ronin and Pietro sat on the couch and Wanda sat on pillows at Ronin’s feet so both he and Pietro could read her lips as they talked. Samuel sat right next to Ronin and Natalia perched on his lap, burrowed into her love’s arms and reaching with one hand towards Ronin because she couldn’t stop touching either of the men.

Morgan toddled from person to person, charming her Da’s with happy smiles and waving her hands in the air in excitement whenever anyone tried to pick her up or offered her a snack from the table.

“She’s perfect, love.” Samuel kissed Natalia’s cheek. “Prettiest little girl in the world.”

 _Beautiful_. Ronin signed and when Morgan caught the motion, she ran through her own little bit of sign language, signing  _father_ and  _hungry_ and  _more_ and  _please_ over and over until Ronin laughed and tore her off a big piece of cake, grinning in delight when Morgan signed  _love love love love_  and _pop pop pop_  as she did another lap around the room.

James stood at the door like he always had, half in the kitchen and half out, watching over his family with sharp eyes. More often than not his gaze landed on Natalia and his heart  _squeezed_ at the sight of his sister looking so healthy, happy and content, a baby with their Ma’s name tugging at Talia’s skirts and begging for up. 

He hated that Pietro was so hurt, but he could see the resilience in the boy, could see the spark of laughter in Pietro’s uninjured eye and a hint of the familiar laugh in the smiles Ronin coaxed free.

Wanda had flourished into a beauty, maturity and wisdom in her movements and her voice and James knew without having to ask that the girl had stepped up when Talia could not, more than likely keeping the older woman settled just by her presence, by the way she was so quick to jump up and help with the baby.

Nineteen months he and Samuel and Ronin had been kept in the Tsar’s prison, nineteen months they had been hurt, starved, threatened and beaten. Six months in they’d taken James’s arm, a month after that Ronin had lost the hearing in his bad ear entirely, damaging the other side enough that he rarely spoke at all anymore. Samuel had survived it all, but the  _horror_ was etched into his eyes and into the scars on his back but right now—

– _right now,_  Samuel and Ronin had their arms full of loved ones, right now they were playing with their daughter and kissing Natalia and laughing with the twins-

–And Tony was pressed up to James’s chest, arms set securely at James’s waist, making no attempt to hide how badly he wanted to be held, making no attempt to hide how badly he wanted to  _hold_.

_No more secrets, no more hiding._

After so many bad days, so many weeks of hell, James wanted nothing more than to stand here and hold the one he loved while his family rested safe and together in their new home, but he still had one thing to ask, one thing to know.

He picked up Tony’s hand from his waist, rubbed his thumb over the tattooed insignia on the inside of Tony’s wrist and whispered, “Lord Antonio Carbonell Stark,  _nobile dei marchesi di Brescia_. Is your heart still mine?”

Tony spread his fingers over James’s heart and didn’t hesitate to whisper back, “Of course it is.”

“I love you.” James said then, simple and  _powerful_ and enough to take Tony’s breath away. “And I am sorry I did not tell you before we said goodbye.”

“You told me.” Tony countered with a shaky smile. “I was just afraid to hear it.”

James didn’t release Tony’s wrist for a long minute, staring down into his eyes as if searching for something he couldn’t quite find.

“What do you see?” Tony asked anxiously, “What are you looking for?”

James shook his head. “I was looking for shadows sweet thing, but I can’t find any. Nothing but gold and light in your eyes. No shadows at all.”

“I love you.” Tony breathed and James nodded, finally releasing Tony’s wrist so he could draw him into a long kiss.

“I love you too.”

***********

**Epilogue**

***********

The masquerade ball began at sundown and as the clock struck midnight, the orchestra’s tune changed to something  _livelier_ , a tune meant to encourage the dancers back to the floor to show off costumes and masks as they whirled around with their partner.

Pietro was mysterious and suave with a half-face mask and feathered hat tipped low over his eyes, a coat swirling around his feet and gloves on his hands as he led different partners out on to the floor. The debutantes were entranced by the way his smile was a little bit crooked and the raspiness of his voice, the older women  _fascinated_ by the mystery of a man all in black.

Wanda was simply stunning dressed in all red from the veil in her hair to the shoes that peeped out beneath the gathered and bustled gown. She was the belle of the ball and surrounded by a flock of admirers no matter which way she turned, her dance card full within a few minutes of arriving.

Natalia stole the air from the room in her peacock gown, the altered neckline just as low as had been the night she and Tony met, the jewels just as brilliant, her hairstyle just as intricate. But tonight her smile was only for her loves, Ronin in dark green as the English outlaw Robin Hood, Samuel as a falcon, feathers of black, red and brown flowing down his cape. They danced every dance together, taking turns trading Natalia between their arms and laughing simply because the woman they loved was laughing and it was  _wonderful_. 

James was a wolf tonight, hulking and  _fierce_ with his fur cape and necklace of claws and teeth, silver painted across his face to make his eyes glow. He looked dangerous and wild and every inch the ghost that had wreaked so much havoc across the continent. 

He was a startling contrast to Tony who came as a phoenix, wrapped in brilliant colors of fire yellow and brilliant orange, bold red and rich  browns, foregoing his mask to match James with paint, lines and swirls of gold on his cheeks and up to his forehead, sweeping down to his jaw. 

Together they were light and dark, hot and cold, shadows and winter fading to sunshine and spring as they moved across the ballroom together.

Tiberius and his wife were in attendance and Tony stepped away from James only long to bring Natalia to meet them. He proudly introduced Natalia as his  _wife_ and then just as proudly turning to kiss James square on the lips as Natalia laughed out loud and let Ronin sweep her away onto the dance floor again.

It was a beautiful night, a beautiful masquerade and when James led Tony out onto the balcony and down into the gardens, Tony didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back, didn’t try to hide when James reached for him.

“I love you.” James whispered into a kiss, the moonlight catching the silver on his face and reflecting off the blue of his eyes. “Antonio Carbonell Stark, my heart is  _yours_.”

“My heart is yours.” Tony whispered back, and as the music spilled from the masquerade and filtered through the night air into the gardens– “Stay with me.”

“I’m staying.” James swayed them slowly to the music, holding Tony as close as he could. “I’m finally home with you, my love.”


End file.
